


Whirlwind Nights

by After88



Series: Heatwave Days and Whirlwind Nights [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Friendships, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Honestly they give me L I F E, I live for them, I'd tag this as PWP but there is actually a bit of plot, It's actually really sweet, Modern Thedas, My D O R K S, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-05-09 10:11:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 64,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14714099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/After88/pseuds/After88
Summary: It was normal to want to fuck your best friend, right?Sure, things could go wrong, people could get hurt and friendships could be ruined, but that was only if feelings were going to get involved. And it made sense that they'd wake up tangled up in each other after a particularly messy birthday night out and years of tip-toeing around their attraction for each other.Well, she had. Varric wasn't exactly an open book when it came to things like that.So why not make a good thing better with sex?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a hell of a lot more backstory to By The Firelight (part one of this series) and contains some spoilers for it, but nothing too major tbh.  
> Also my first (proper) published smut. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you guys didn't expect this, did ya? I feel like a lot of Hawke's characterisation is kinda missed in BTFL (Part One of the WWN series) so you don't really understand why she's acting the way she is in that, so this is kinda an excuse to write that. It's also basically an excuse for smut (constructive criticism is greatly appreciated as it is my first published attempt)  
> With that out of the way... enjoy ;)  
> \- - - - - - - - - - - -  
> Chapter edited on 16/07/2018

Hawke pushed her eyelids apart, her head still splitting and stomach still queasy. Birthday cake and alcohol was always a bad idea. You would have thought she'd learnt her lesson last year... or the year before that. But nope.

With much difficulty, she managed to haul herself up onto her elbows and then a sitting position. Once that exertion was over, she tried to look for her phone, her eyes still kinda glued together.

Wait a sec... This wasn't her room?

She looked around, clothes strewn all over the floor that - sure enough - wasn't hers. It _was_ familiar though. Although that did nothing to help the situation.

Great, so she'd had another one night stand she couldn't remember. Just what she needed, another pointless walk of shame.

Her eyes scanned the room, looking for clues, but she was no detective. Candles? Books? There was a desk that probably used to house the piles of paper also scattered on the floor. All in all, this room could belong to anyone in Kirkwall. Great. So she'd have to do it the old fashioned way. She shuffled over and looked beside her to whoever she'd spent the night with, carefully moving the covers to see-

_Varric?_

Her eyes practically burst out of her head, only worsening her headache. That couldn't be right, _surely_? It was all just a dream, or a joke, or a misunderstanding. Or something. _Anything_.

But when she looked down at her body, she couldn't deny that she was very much lacking in the clothes department. Yes, very naked. Impossible to be any more naked. Varric had... his necklace on, at least. That was _something_.

So she levered herself off the bed and scrambled for her clothes, making as little noise as possible. Which was in fact a lot, due to her hangover and lack of stability. There was a slight chance that she was _still_ drunk. After the third time she dropped her belt on the floor, Varric stirred and rolled over. But this time, he woke.

“Hawke?” He mumbled, his face adorably confused, “What are you doing?”  
“Just saving you the trouble of finding me naked in your bed.” She took another quick glance at the room, “My, eh, bra is missing so if you find it then I'd appreciate it if you could give it back.”

He raised his eyebrows, but soon took notice of the fact he was butt naked, his face turning a fascinating shade of red. He hastily pulled the covers further over him, gripping onto them for what seemed like dear life, his mouth struggling to do it's job.

“Shit, did we...?”  
“I assume so.”  
“I thought you'd been joking about...”  
“Wanting to fuck you? What's that thing they say?” Hawke sighed dramatically, “Behind every joke is a needle of truth?”

A little smirk wormed it's way out as he sat up. His hair was down, loose from it's usual tie and his eyes twinkling in what little light was in the room.

Oh shit- wait! What was that on his neck? Hickies? _And_ they were on both sides! Holy shit! She snorted at the sight of them, whatever urge of lust she felt was completely repressed.

“What?” He asked, a rare, self-concious look on his face, “What is it?”  
“I hope you own a turtleneck.” Hawke giggled.  
“I don't...” He trailed off, panic dawning over his face. His hands scrambled for his phone that held his reflection. “Maker's breath, Hawke! Were you trying to eat me?”

Her giggles turned to chuckles, which soon gave way to a full belly laugh. It must have been contagious because Varric soon joined in too. _That_ was what they needed. Laughter. Lots and lots of maniacal laughter. Maybe they could just laugh themselves to death? A little too morbid perhaps, but the whole situation was so fucking ridiculous, there wasn't really anything else to do.

The pair's laughter slowly dissolved into an almost comfortable silence while Hawke attempted to lace her boots. The important word being _attempted._

“You know, you can stay a little longer if you want.” Varric sighed, rubbing his neck, “I probably have tons of food left over from last night.”  
“For a second there I was beginning to think that you were trying to entice me back to bed!” Aah yes, another joke. More laughter!  
He paused a second and shrugged his shoulders. “Who says food has to be eaten at a table?”

Her grin widened, almost reaching her ears as she threw her boots back off. Thank fuck she didn't have to face the outside world quite yet.

“You want anything while I'm up?”  
“I'm good for now.”

The kitchen felt surprisingly cold after the warmth of Varric's room. The remains of a party she couldn't even remember met her in the kitchen; decorations, food and drink scattered across every surface. Still, it didn't stir her memory into remembering why she made such a crazy decision... Nope, just haze and blank space. A shame, really. Sex with Varric would have been a nice memory to have. So instead, she picked up a paper plate and stuffed it high with whatever she could find. She honestly hadn't eaten so much Fereldan food since... well, leaving Fereldan probably. Maker only knows how much it would have cost to get it imported. What did she do to deserve a best friend like him?

Back in his bedroom, she found Varric on top of his covers, sat in his dressing gown. Of course, his chest was still distractingly out (praise the Maker) as he flicked through his phone.

“Umuhuh ubruba?”  
“Pardon?” His eyes looked puzzled, but there was humour just at the edge of his features.  
She tried again to swallow the remains of a cold sausage roll, succeeding this time. “Anything interesting?”  
“Well, I think you must have stolen my phone at some point.”  
“Varric dear, you wound me!”  
“Who else would download...” He shook his head, “...hundreds of pictures of dragons and mabaris?”  
A wisp of a memory came back to her. Something about a bet? “You sure that's not _my_ phone?”  
“It may as well be now.”  
“Any idea where mine is then?”  
“Your guess is as good as mine. Want me to phone it?”  
She nodded, yet another sausage roll stuffed into her mouth, keeping an ear out for the ringtone.

“Oh, hi?” He fumbled, “Oh right, hi Aveline. Yeah, that _is_ Hawke's phone.” He looked over at her, “She's fine, just wondering where her phone was.” Hawke rolled her eyes, “At the police station? Yeah, she'll come pick it up when she can... Fine, fine. Just a bit hungover, really.... Thanks for that, anyway.... Speak later. Bye.”

He put the phone down and put his hands over his eyes, rubbing his forehead. “It was found on the street beside a pile of sick and handed into the station.”  
She snorted. Hearing of how drunk she was was always a strange sort of schadenfreude to her.  
“Good night though?” He asked.  
“I have no idea.” She shrugged her shoulders, “I only have a few hazy memories, but it seemed pretty good from what I can remember.”  
“Sounds about right. What's that thing Rivaini always says?”  
“If you _do_ remember your birthday, then it hasn't been spent right.” Something niggled at her memory, something about- “Oh, wait! I remember pre-drinks...” Her face scrunched up as if it would help her remember. “We played never have I ever. And you...” She watched Varric's mouth purse, “You said hadn't been with a human before!”  
“Aah, shit.” He drawled. “I hoped you'd forget that.”  
“How could I possibly? I'm honoured to have been the first human you've successfully enticed to bed.”  
“You're also only one I've tried to, I guess.”  
“Stop it!” She giggled, “No wait, _don't_!”  
“Aah yes, that's exactly what you need. An inflated ego.”  
“I already have one, in case you haven't noticed.”  
“Oh, don't worry. I have.”

She dug into her food once more, but suddenly a flash of Varric's chest appeared in her mind. Oh, that was something. As if she needed it to be any more difficult not to look at his chest. Usually she was pretty good at it, but even _she_ had her limits.

“You know, if you take a picture it'll last longer.” He smirked.  
“Huh?”  
He looked at her over his phone, one eyebrow raised and the other lost under his long, messy hair. Oh man, did he _know_ how fucking hot he looked right now? “My chest. You've been staring at it.”  
“Well I _would_ take a picture but unfortunately Aveline has my phone. So I guess,” She put a hand to her forehead and threw her head back dramatically, “I just _have_ to make do with the real thing. How very awful!”  
“What a shame.” He sighed, a smirk on his lips, “I _almost_ feel sorry for you.”

She smirked back as she took another mouthful of egg mayonnaise sandwich, lips pressed in thought. Okay, so if she was _really_ sure that she wanted to do it again, then couldn't they? They _were_ consenting adults, after all. And it was normal to want to fuck your best friend, right?

Or at least, that's what she told herself when Varric sat in front of her, looking so fucking _edible._ That tousled hair, that mischievous gleam and of course, that chest covered in tiny flecks of gold hair. The whole thing was laughable, the two of them waking up tangled into bed together and now she was sitting beside him, stuffing her face with leftovers from her own birthday dinner.

But they say every silver cloud has a lining.

“You know,” She said, setting down her plate beside the bed, tilting her head so slightly towards him, “It's been far too long since I've had a good roll in the hay... That I can remember, I mean.”  
He raised his eyebrows, but something lurked behind his eyes. “Is this a subtle hint?”  
“Maaaaybe? I mean...” The butterflies in her stomach made their way to her throat and she swallowed them back down, “I guess I wouldn't mind another go.”

She watched him swallow as his eyes flickered up and down. _Now_ she had his attention.

“What, now?” He breathed.  
“Why not? They say there's no time like the present!” She raised a singular eyebrow (her best talent) and let a slow smirk free. “Unless there's something on your phone more interesting?”  
“I eh-” He put his phone down with almost a clatter, “What would this be then?”  
“A casual roll in the hay? No strings attached, obviously.”  
“Obviously.” He repeated, probably to himself, his face showing a mind swirling with emotion.  
Shit, she'd really done it now. “I mean, if you don't want to then don't let me-”  
“No. I want to. This isn't going to get in the way of our friendship though?”  
“I promise. Well, unless you're absolutely terrible. Then I'll probably move back to Fereldan.”  
“Okay, okay.” His mouth turned up into a crooked smile, “Why not. I'm up for it.”

She bit her lip. Okay, that was _surprisingly_ easy. She shuffled a little for a better position, moving her body closer. She took the opportunity to tentatively run her fingers up his chest, as if testing scorching bathwater. And yet, a smile grew on her face. She always _did_ like her bathwater boiling.

“How _did_ I know that was going to be the first thing you'd do?”  
“I have absolutely no idea.” She sighed, licking her lips and moving even closer.

She could smell the paper, the spiced candles, the leather and aftershave lingering on his skin. The way his shoulders moved in time with his breathing, the way those lose strands of hair framed his face, the soft sparkle in his eye. It was all just so... _Varric._

Oh shit, wow, so she was _actually_ going to do this with Varric? But why was she was _nervous?_ Why would she be? She was Hawke and she was good at sex. Maybe she was just really aroused. So aroused that her stomach decided to constantly flip in circles. Yeah, that was it.

She blinked and focused on him again, but his face was closed off, cold and worried. He'd been watching her and he knew her far too well for her own good.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his honey eyes piercing back at her, asking for permission to continue.  
She smirked, pulling him closer until their lips were just shy of each other. “Never better.” And closed the gap.

The first thing she noticed was the fact that he tasted of cheap booze (not that it was a bad thing) and had possibly the worst morning breath she'd ever come across. It didn't exactly feel like her whole world slotted into place or anything (as if she expected it to), but she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel accomplished. But really, getting Varric Tethras into bed with her? What a privilege.

Her body pushed against him, harder still, feeling his rough stubble against her cheek. Fuck, this was good. _Really good_. Why hadn't they done this before?

His tongue swirled into her mouth and she moaned softly against him, his hand snaking its way up to the back of her head, his fingers entwining themselves into her hair. Not the best idea since she'd been drinking a hell of a lot last night. Maker only knows what was in there, but he didn't seem to notice though. Her hand found itself back at Varric's chest, tracing the soft lines, a forbidden fruit until now. Okay, he _definitely_ worked out.

A shaky cough snapped her from the daze, his head twisting suddenly away from hers.  
“You okay?” Hawke asked, thankful for a reason to breathe. Because she _would_ have forgotten to.

He nodded, although he still couldn't look her in the eye. Strange. Her hand moved again and a stifled squeak escaped.

“My, my, Varric Tethras!” Hawke cooed, this new revelation music to her ears, “Are _you_ ticklish?”  
“A... bit.” He sighed, rolling his eyes.  
“Good to know!”

She pulled his body to hers' once again, heat radiating from the whole of her body. Mmh, yeah, she needed this. It'dbeen _far_ too long since her last decent romp. Carefully, as to not tickle this time, she tugged lightly at Varric's robe. Unfortunately, he'd put some underwear back on, but at least she could pretty clearly see what was underneath. And Maker, she liked what she saw.

Varric's hand moved from her hair to under her t-shirt, tracing over her stomach and up, up to her bare breasts, cupping them gently, his thumb tracing over the soft skin. Of all the best times to have lost her bra, this was definitely the best. He gripped them gently, squeezing and pushing as they heaved in time with her breathing.

“Fuck...” He groaned into her neck, so quietly she doubted she was supposed to hear it.

A fever took hold of the two, pushing harder with every kiss, faster with every grab and oh, she was _desperate_. She could feel him shifting, his leg resting between her legs, whether it was on purpose or not. Surely it wasn't too forward to maybe use that to her advantage? Slowly, she ground against him, her hips sliding smoothly against his legs, a delicious pressure building between her legs. A gentle chuckle echoed from the crook of her neck, his hot breath willing him harder? Of _course_ it was there on purpose; why did she expect anything else? She ground down again, quick breaths escaping through her nose, but she wanted more. And the pressure was already becoming painful; and not in a good way. Fuck you, jeans.

It was time to take initiative, though. A hand of hers slipped down his chest, pulling apart his robe until his whole chest was exposed, hooking a finger under his underwear, his breath hitching ever so deliciously. A second hand joined the first and a realisation dawned on her.

This was it, she was going to cross a line that meant their friendship may never be the same. It was all a bit dramatic, too cliché. And all because she was going to see a dick? Come on, she'd seen it already anyway. Sure, she'd been pissed and couldn't remember, but that line had still already been crossed, nonetheless. And she'd almost seen it once or twice, but of course she'd looked away because that was just the friendship they'd had. But it was different now.

So she swallowed and tugged on his underwear, his cock springing up, already half hard. Nice. It maybe wasn't as long as she'd expected, but it looked pretty darn thick. So she wasn't disappointed, that was for sure.

“What?”  
“Huh?”  
“You're staring a bit.”  
“Oh right! You'd rather I got to it then, would you?”  
“Not really but I-” The words dissolved on his tongue as Hawke took him in her mouth. “Maker's breath.” His voice was nothing but a whisper.

Fuck, he _was_ thick, there was no denying that. Her mouth was already starting to tire as she all but swallowed him whole. Oh wait, her mouth was stiff? Wait, _had_ she given him a blow job last night! She knew it! His fingers grazed her scalp as he softly wound his hand into her hair, guiding her up and down his length, making low moans that travelled straight between her legs.

You know, if a few years ago she found out she'd be doing _this_ then she'd have been ecstatic, what with that fucking annoying crush she had on him. But naah, she'd matured. Having feelings for someone was so last age. Having meaningless sex? Now _that_ was where it's at.

She cupped at his balls as he squirmed under her, his breath no longer steady.  
“Hawke...” He moaned, with an attempt to make eye contact that nearly knocked her breathless.  
“Mhmm?” She hummed, mouth still deliciously full.  
“Fu- Get your ass up here.”  
One final lick for good measure and she released his cock with a pop and a cocky grin. “If you insist.”

She hauled herself up and took the liberty of removing her t-shirt, pulling the hem of the fabric slowly up over her stomach, then her breasts and finally over her head. The astonished expression she got when she flung it away made something in her chest tighten. He licked his lips and let his eyes wonder, as if he didn't know where to look.

“Now _you're_ the one staring.” She chuckled. “Although it can't be helped. I guess you've never been with a human before and you'd be hard pressed to find one as irresistible as me.”  
“I'm just-” He swallowed and got onto his knees, a hand pushing against her chest. His mouth opened, but no words came out. Instead, his eyebrows furrowed as his brain worked a mile a minute. Shit, this couldn't be good. Was he having second thoughts? _Again_?

And of course, that horrible feeling of disappointment washed over her. Of _course_ , she wasn't good enough for him. Why had she ever-

“I just didn't think that we...” He shook his head, a serious look dawning on his face. “Just... before we go any further, _please_ let me know if there's anything you don't like. Just say and I'll stop, no questions asked.”  
Oh. Right. “Yeah, same here.” She watched as his shoulders dropped and a calm smile emerged. “But I'm pretty easy to please so no need to worry. Now, are we just going to sit here and talk until we cum or are we-”

Her head hit the mattress and Varric loomed over her, a mischievous gleam in his eye. Wait, she'd already had a dream like this, hadn't she? So she watched him with baited breath, eyes wide with anticipation, desperate to know what he'd do next.

And maker, he didn't disappoint.

He lowered himself to her stomach and littered it with little pecks as his arms wrapped themselves around her legs to stop her from squirming to much. Oh fuck. Oh _fuck._

Nimble fingers undid her tight jeans and belt and peeled them off her, letting his hand wander as he did so, drinking in the sight of her, as if commuting her to memory. If he was using her as inspiration for a sex scene then she wasn't one to complain.

Then he set about littering her exposed torso with kisses. First, he started at her neck, his breath hot, tickling her ear so divinely, a whimper of a giggle escaping. Then her collarbone caught his attention, nipping and licking his way across them, revelling in every gasp, every moan that she made, whether or not she wanted to make them. By the time he moved his way to her chest, it was already heaving with a thousand things she couldn't even name. He latched onto a nipple and her back arched to him, willing him closer, _harder_. His teeth gently grazed at the sensitive skin, a shot of arousal going straight between her legs, praying that was where he was going with this. Down further still, past her belly button and the little pudge underneath and into the mound of curls. She _knew_ she should have shaved! He didn't go any further, though. Instead, he traced circles in her leg, tickling the skin and making her wriggle under his touch.

“Just get on with it, for fuck sake!” She moaned, trying to sound threatening, but it came out as more of a whimper.  
“How did I know you wouldn't be patient?” He chuckled into her leg and she couldn't help but latch onto his hair and push him towards her cunt.  
“I waited far too long to get you into bed with me, so credit where it's-” His finger skimmed the length of her slit and the words died. “-dddyyyyou bastard.” She wheezed.  
His laugh was warmer than she'd heard it in a long time. “You don't really mean that.”  
“Try me.”

He seemed to take pity on her because his tongue replaced his finger, swirling against her slit, his stubble skimming against her better than she ever could have imagined. Her legs trembled against his touch as her fingers wound themselves into his hair, willing him closer, harder, faster. She was willing to do anything she could, just so that he wouldn't stop. He must have got the hint because he gained fervour, pushing his tongue further into her and his finger flicking against her clit.

Oh fuck, oh, **fuck** , she was close. _**Really**_ close. She ground against his mouth, desperate for _more_. More pressure, more speed, more everything. His finger slipped into her and he pumped against her. Everything was just a mass of fingers, scratching, scrabbling, seeking release.

“Va- Varric I- nnnnng.”

He chuckled against her cunt, the vibrations shaking her entire body to the core. She ground against him, faster still, hoping, wishing, _praying_ for a release that never seemed to come. Well, she _was_ still kind of drunk from last night. Bloody alcohol ruining her fun.

“I'm so... so close.” She growled through gritted teeth.

Varric hummed in agreement and sped up even more, a second finger joining the first, but somehow she just _knew_ she wasn't going to push through that wall. Poor guy would be at it for ages and oh, look; here came the over-sensitivity. For that to happen so early, they must have been rabid last night.

“Let's, ah- stop for a second.” She panted, pushing his head from between her legs. He immediately withdrew, sitting back and watching her struggle to breathe.

Breathe, Hawke. _Breathe._

“Well, how was that?” Varric asked, his voice laced with the beginnings of worry.  
“Just...” She mumbled, unable to even string more than a word together.

Because Maker, she was still swimming in the clouds. So even though she didn't manage to cum, that was so much better ever could have imagined. Not that she _had_ imagined sleeping with her best friend. Oh, who was she kidding? Of course she had. But they weren't done yet. Oh no, far from it.

“That was... fucking fantastic.” She let out a deep sigh, chest still heaving. “Don't worry, I'll... return the favour in a minute. I just- give me a second to rest.”  
“There's no need to rush.” He replied, a wary smile on his face.

She looked at him, properly _looked_ at him; hair tousled, cheeks red, eyes gleaming and felt... something. She was never one for words and this certainly wasn't time to waste on useless words. Hot. Yeah, that was it.

On shaky arms, she hauled herself up and brought her lips to his once again. He tasted of her, tart yet sweet as his tongue slithered past hers. She brought a hand to his cock once more and Varric exhaled against her mouth. Her hand slid slowly up and down the length, a smile tingeing her lips as she thought about having another taste. But no, not right now. It was time for something _better._

She tried to shuffle her legs into a better position for fucking him, but oh, look! They were a mess of jelly after that. Bloody typical. Time for a plan B then.

With a hand on his chest, she leaned into his neck and whispered, “If I could ask for a favour?”  
“A favour?” He grumbled back against her ear. “I thought you were going to return the favour?”  
“Yes, well, that was before I realised that my legs were made of jelly.” She nibbled his neck to punctuate her sentence and earned herself a choked groan. “Could you fuck me?”  
“W-well, how could I say no to such a request?”  
“What position is best for you?”

He paused for a second, his eyes flickering between the two of them, probably making mental calculations. Fair enough, he'd never been with a human before. That he could remember, anyway.

“Hands and knees?” He suggested. Shame he couldn't have been a little more dominant about it.

But she still eagerly did what he'd asked. Usually she'd try to act cool, maybe even a little uninterested but she'd be lying if she said she didn't want to relent underneath him and just let him pound her into the mattress. So she did.

“Do you have any condoms?” He asked.  
She raised an eyebrow. He didn't even have a packet lying about? “Check my jean pocket.”

So Hawke waited impatiently on her hands and knees, arse in the air, feeling more than a little exposed. Lovely. Why didn't he even have spares lying about? Varric was always the poster child of safety and responsibility. Oh no, please don't say the last person he'd had in bed with him was Bianca. Now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember him mentioning anyone... Shit, she probably was, wasn't she?

His fingers brushed between her legs, up to her lips once again, slow a finger in and that thought evaporated into thin air. The new position let his fingers go deeper and praise the Maker above, it was _good._

“Faster.” She pleaded through raspy breaths.  
“As you wish.” He replied. She could hear the smug smirk on his face.

He pumped faster and faster, swirling his finger as he did so, going deeper and deeper. And yes, okay, that was-

“Fffffucking hhhhhhhell.”  
“Good?” He chuckled.  
“What do... you think?”

He ground to a hault and pulled out, the emptiness immediate. The sound of rustling confirmed that yes, the condom was going on. Better safe than sorry, she guessed. She bit down on a groan and let her head fall into the pillow below as his dick pushed against her, but then he paused just shy of entering and let out an exasperated sigh.

“I don't want to ruin the moment, but I just want to make sure that you're sure-”

In one swift move she cut him off, pushing back against him, his dick almost completely engulfed. He moved, slowly and Hawke, tiptoeing the line between pain and pleasure, couldn't help but let out another gasp.

“...fuuuckkk” She uttered, unable to stop her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

He began slowly, almost tentatively, a hand on either side of her hips, plunging in and out as Hawke's fingers curled into pillow. She tried to pound against him, to speed him up, but he held her firmly and kept going at his own steady pace. Her mouth fell open without her even meaning to and needy breaths filled the room with every slow movement.

Eventually, bit by bit he sped up, pounding faster, sweat dripping and eyes rolling, moans met with only the sound of flesh on flesh. Her mouth fell open and a guttural groan emerged as he pounded her into the mattress, deeper and harder with every thrust.

It was a shame she couldn't see his face right now. She was curious, if anything, what he looked like when he was coming undone, but at least she could hear him and every little moan, every heavy breath, every mumbled curse. But all they did was push her closer to the edge and boy, was she close.

Her trembling hand moved to her clit and began rubbing frantically, a surge of lust leaving her breathless, gasping as if there wasn't enough air in the world. Suddenly everything was so overwhelming, the pleasure so intense, the heat unbearable, the pressure _so fucking good_ -

And then she shattered.

No sound escaped from her, but her teeth bared together and her head fell flat into the pillow under her, her face hot enough to set the pillow aflame as her fingers curled into the sheets under her.

“Holy shit.” Varric breathed through a choked groan, his pace faltering.

Her walls clamped around him as he kept pounding, a breathy moan tearing its way out of her, her eyes squeezed shut so firmly she swore she could see stars. His fingers bore into her hips, a sharp pain beginning to take hold, but it was so fucking good she didn't care. At this point, he could rip her leg off and she wouldn't be bothered.

When the euphoria faded a little and she was able to have some grasp on her surroundings, she found his rhythm and pushed back against him as hard as her jelly legs would manage, her body aching from the exertion.

“Oh fuck...” He uttered, so softly that it was almost lost.

And then he came to a shuddering stop. While being came inside was nice, the noises he was making were fucking delicious. Low, choked groans tore through the silence of the room, punctuated only with heavy breaths. Man, just the thought of those noises alone could take her thorough many lonely nights.

And then a thought hit her square in the gut. This wasn't going to be a one-off, was it? Fuck, surely not. How could she be around him and not want to fuck him into oblivion?

A moment later, he slid out and fell to the bed. She hazard a glance, but his hand lay on his face, obscuring the view. Damn, all she wanted was to know what he looked like, all hot and bothered. Never mind. She scooted to the edge of the bed and got ready to head off.

“How was that?” He wheezed.  
“That was pretty fucking amazing, if I'm honest.” She smirked, running a hand though her hair, attempting to tame it into submission.  
“Yeah?”  
She gave him the most satisfied grin she could. “Yeah.”

With a groan, she rose to her feet and stretched, giving Varric one last view before getting changed. Making sure she could keep an eye on his reaction, she bent down to pick up her abandoned clothes. His eyebrows turned up for a second before he looked away and reached for his phone. It was rather nice to be oggled.

He cleared his throat. “You know, there's no rush to leave, if you don't want to.”  
“I know, I think I've probably outstayed my welcome.”  
“I wouldn't say so.”  
“Yeah, but I just want to go home and have a shower. Plus the twins will be wondering if I'm still alive.” Carver would probably cry if he thought her dead. He'd certainly deserve it.  
“Fair enough.” He sighed.

Well, this was probably the best time to ask about repeat performances, wasn't it? She paused to find the best words for the job. She didn't want to seem _too_ eager, after all.

“You know, I really wouldn't mind that happening again. You know, if you were umm, up for it.”  
He nodded slowly, a hand sliding to the back of his neck. “Yeah well, you know you're always welcome here.” His eyes flickered to her, but then quickly away again. “And this definitely isn't going to change anything?”  
She hadn't even realised it was a question for a good few seconds. “Oh yeah, of course not.” She shot him a toothy grin before putting her top back on, still without a bra to her name.  
“So what do we do about the others?”  
“What about them?” Was he implying a three-some? She struggled to keep a smirk from her lips.  
“Are they going to know about this or...?”

Oh, right. That hadn't even occurred to her. _Should_ they? But then they'd be the victims of Isabela's torment. And then there was the embarrassment of everyone _knowing_ and that could make things complicated-

“We don't have to if you don't want to.” He blurted, as if regret was already settling in.  
“Could we keep it quiet? If that's okay with you.”  
He shrugged. “That suits me just fine.”

With her belt on, she finally everything that she could find gathered together, she figured it was best not to delay the inevitable.

“I'll see you around.”  
He jolted to a stop, his finger stuck hovering over a key, dumbstruck for a long moment. “...Don't um, forget about Wicked Grace night.”  
“Varric, you wound me! When have _I_ ever forgot about Wicked Grace night?”  
A shaky chuckle broke free, “That's a fair point. Shall I eh... see you to the door?”  
“No need. It's not like it's my first time here.” She threw him a final grin, swishing her hair as she went, “See you around!”

And she left, unwilling to notice the strange feeling that settled in her chest.

 


	2. Chapter 2

And so after that, everything went back to normal (if he could even allow himself to think that). The same quick banter, the same sporadic messages and texts were exchanged between them, as if nothing had changed. Well, wasn't as if anything _had_ , it was just that he'd kind of expected it to? They'd agreed it wouldn't, though, so he wasn't even sure why he was worried. Maybe it was just the fact it was new territory to him. But of course, over-thinking came as easily to him as breathing.

But now that he thought about it, he hadn't actually seen Hawke since the, eh... encounter. But she _was_ going to come tonight. Of course she was; she'd never missed a Wicked Grace night yet. And of course, as usual, Varric was hosting the weekly get-together. It made sense; there was still a shit tonne of party food left over from last weekend that even he hadn't been able to finish on his own.

That was all fine and well, but seven o'clock came and went with everyone piling in and helping themselves to food, drinks and whatever else he had. Everyone except Hawke, that is. She was going to be late. In fact, she was _already_ running late. Only ten minutes, but still. She was often late for things, so he just had to relax. Maybe she was just putting on makeup or something... whatever Hawke did.

“Are you okay?” Aveline noticed. “You look a little anxious?”  
“I'm fine, yeah.” He glanced at his phone. Great, twenty minutes now.  
“So how's your writing been going?”  
Aah, yes. The usual question. At least he could speak to Aveline. “Well, I've had a bit of writers block if I'm honest.”  
“Oh, how so?”

As if summoned, the sound of glass bottles clashing together shattered the calm as the front door crashed open.

“I'm here!” Hawke screeched, “Don't you dare start without me!”

Well, that was a relief to say the least. He let go of the breath he didn't even know he'd been holding as she careered into the kitchen, hair sticking up in random places, breathing heavily behind a wild grin.

“Do I want to know why you look so suspicious?” Aveline groaned.  
“I don't think you would.” She giggled, taking a bottle of cider from her shopping bag, cracking off the top and trying to capture the foam of the over-shaken bottle with her mouth. Of course, that didn't work, at least half of it dribbling down her chin towards her-

Fuck.

“Hey Varric!” She smiled, her eyes lingering on him a little longer than usual.  
“Hi.” He blinked, offering her a plate to stuff with food, his mind abandoning him at the most inconvenient time. “Are you enjoying being twenty-one?”  
“Surprisingly familiar.” She joked, forgoing the plate and instead stabbing a meatball with her fork and nibbling at it absent-mindedly. Her grin took a predatory turn as her gaze turned south.  
“What?” He grumbled.  
“You _really_ want me to answer that now?” Her eyes flickered up, dark and wide. His heart may as well have stopped.  
“Well, _you_ were the one so intent on the others not knowing.” He grumbled, suddenly so aware of everyone else in the kitchen.  
“Not knowing what?” Isabela smirked, worming an arm around his, linking with him.

Trust her to sniff out anything. Hawke's lips pursed in a feeble attempt to stop smirking as she turned around to stab another meatball. So it was up to him then.

“Not knowing what happened at Hawke's birthday.”  
“You guys ended up at Chainz.” Her eyes bore into his, watching for any signs of weakness.  
“I saw the texts.” He grumbled. “Don't know if I believe it though.”  
“You don't remember?” She looked more than a little disappointed. “I knew Hawke was in a bad way, but I didn't think you were that bad. Where did you guys wake up then? In a gutter?”  
“At Varric's.” Hawke chewed, mouth full of meatball.  
A dangerous smirk flashed across her face. “Oh, so did you give her an _extra_ special birthday surprise?”  
“ _Isabela_!” Varric growled, ignoring the chunk of meatball flying out of Hawke's mouth as she held back a snigger.  
“It was just a joke.” She rolled her eyes as she nicked a swig of Hawke's cider. “We're all ready to start when you are.”

The others were already around the coffee table, so they slipped into their usual seats; Varric on the couch and Hawke on the floor beside him.

They all took turns throwing in their bets, some better than others. All Blondie could come up with was a packet of instant noodles, poor guy. Maybe he could sneak him some of the leftovers before he went.

Hawke threw in her usual starting bet (a few silvers) and leaned back into Varric, her cheek resting on his knee. They'd done that before though, millions of times, so why did it bother him? Maybe because last time she didn't let it linger like that. Shit, he had to **force** his mind back to the game. The smirk on her face told him that she was probably aware of what she was doing. It wasn't so unlike the smirk she had when they-

Oh fuck.

“Anyone want another drink?” Her gaze turned to him as he swore for a second she could read his mind. “Varric?”  
“Oh. Yeah, sure.”

What the fuck was up with his brain tonight?

Merrill peeped up from behind her cards. “Could I bother you for one of your ciders, Hawke?”  
“Of course. Anyone else?”

Everyone else still had plenty to drink so she waltzed through.

 _What are you doing?_ He texted her, fingers like lightning.  
_Just trying to up the tension._ She replied. _What, you don't like it?_  
I don't know how to feel about it.  
No biggie. I'll stop then.

“Hawke, get your ass back through here! It's your turn!” Isabela called though.

She came back through drinks in hand, pocketing her phone and gave Varric a subtle nod as she passed. When she sat, her head was far from his knee. But he didn't like that either. No, not one bit.

Isabela leaned in, her look practically predatory. “What did you think about my birthday present then, Hawke?”  
“It's cool, yeah.” Hawke smirked, scratching the back of her neck.  
“Did you give it a name in the end?”  
“The Tingler.” She giggled. Aveline's face turned as red as her hair; she must have realised what present she was referring to.  
“You had a chance to use it yet?”

Okay, this was probably the worst time for that image to pop into his head. _Shit_.

“Well... not really.”  
“Not really?”  
“Yeah.” She shrugged, trying to act cool, but the smirk on her face and the arch in her eyebrows told all.  
Isabela's eyes narrowed and she lowered her cards to the table. “Yeah?”  
Hawke shrugged again, her gaze flickering to the floor. “I had a good hook up.”  
“I knew it! I need details! Who? When? Where?”

Hawke let out a sly giggle, but it put him straight on edge. As if he wasn't already twisted up in knots.

“I can't really say much. It was a private thing.”  
“A _private_ thing?”  
“I can't say any more than that.”  
“But you can't do that! It's not fair!”  
“ _You_ were the one that asked.”

Isabela grumbled and played her turn, but didn't ask any more questions – thank the Maker.

Even with the group seemingly not noticing anything, it didn't stop his heart racing every time someone brought up her birthday. Or spoke to him. Or her.

He _noticed_ more, though. Every little quirk or her lips, every awkward shrug, every time she picked at her fingernails, the concentration on her face as she watched the game. And it really didn't help that his eyes had been moving to Hawke by default.

Aah, shit.

“Varric?”  
“Mhm?” He mumbled, trying to hide the panic with a casual raise of his eyebrows.  
“What happened about that thing with your editor?”  
“What thing?”  
“About whether smoothening was a real word?”  
“Oh yeah. Turns out it wasn't.”

She paused as if about to say something, but he couldn't really tell what she was thinking without looking at her face. A few long seconds passed before she nodded awkwardly and went back to her cards and he could breathe without having to force himself to.

“I think Zev is coming to Chainz tonight. Anyone up for it in a bit?”  
“What time is it anyway?” Varric mumbled, his voice crackling from unuse.  
“Just past 10.”  
“I'll come.” Anders announced.  
“You have the money?”  
“Well, we'll be there before 11 and I have my student card for once so I can get a drink or two.”  
“Awesome. Fenris?”  
“No thank you. I don't have the energy to go out tonight.”  
“I think I'll pass too.” Merrill peeped up. “I forgot to water my bathroom succulents so they'll be a bit thirsty by now. I'd feel bad leaving them.”  
“You can always water them and then come back out.”  
“Oh, no. It's really okay.”  
“Fair enough. Hawke?”

She tilted her head, reaching for her drink, using it as an excuse to catch Varric's eye. Or maybe he was just reading too into things. He probably was, wasn't he? Fuck.

“Yeah, why not?” She shrugged.  
“Attagirl.” She turned to Varric. “I know it's not exactly the Hanged Man, but are you sure I can't tempt you back to Chainz?”  
“Maker, no! I'm just glad I was too drunk to remember it.”

Again, she shot him a look, but he was too busy trying not to look at her to know what it was. Something subtle, he hoped.

But before he knew it, the angel of death had been drawn and the group were already gathering their things, ready to go. He really was in his own head tonight, wasn't he?

Even the ones not going to Chainz making their way out too, already causing a scene on the street outside that he could hear from his window.

“Varric?” Oh shit, Isabela was still here? Great.

“Yeah?” He grumbled, readying himself to deny everything. Deny it. Nothing happened.  
“Is everything okay between you and Hawke?”  
His blood ran cold for probably the sixth time that night. “Yeah, why?”  
“I don't know.” She folded her arms and shrugged, letting her head fall to the side. “You just seem a bit... off?”  
“It's fine.”  
“Did you guys fight or something?”  
It probably would have been easier to let her believe that. Take the bait and run away with it. “No.” He decided. “Honestly, it's fine.”  
She looked like she might have pressed the issue if he hadn't been so aggressively flippant, but instead she let go of an exasperated sigh. “If you say so, I guess.”

And so, with a pat on his shoulder and a growing feeling of uncertainty in his chest, she turned and left.

Fuck, what had he done?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Varric :') I know I said this story would be a lot of smut, but I'm such a slut for characters having inner turmoil (in case you hadn't been able to tell.)
> 
> I had this chapter finished for at least a week before I actually felt confident enough to post it. No idea when the next will be out but thanks to everyone sticking around and reading my stuff. It's greatly appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

Not even a minute passed since they'd left Varric's before Isabela turned to the group, a puzzled look on her face.

“Does anyone know what was up with Varric?”  
“You noticed it too?” Anders sighed. “I thought it was just me.”  
“How couldn't I? He was acting strange all night.”

Well actually, he'd been funny since the day after her birthday, but they didn't need to know that.

“Yeah,” She agreed. “He barely even spoke.”  
“Maybe he's just a bit under the weather?” Fenris added.  
“He said he'd been having writer's block.” Aveline noted.  
“Hmm, yes.” Isabela agreed, “An artistic mood.”  
“I hope he's okay.” Merrill added, looking so sad she could burst into tears.  
“I'm sure he'll be fine.” Hawke lied, forcing a smile onto her face. “I'll check in on him tomorrow and make sure.”  
“Thanks, Hawke.” Aveline smiled, a hand on her shoulder. “I'm going to get going. It was nice to see you all.”  
“I'll head off too.” Merrill waved, walking towards her flat in the Alienage. “See you all soon!”  
“See you all later.” Fenris nodded, hands in pockets and turning towards the nearest bus stop.

“Shall we head to Chainz then?” Isabela sighed, obviously a little miffed at the fact only two others could make it out tonight.  
“Sure.” Hawke mumbled, trying not to drown in the abyss of her mind.

The city was already getting ready for a wild Friday night, people piling into the bars and restaurants littered across Lowtown, melodic screeches escaping into the night every time a door swung open for another person to join the crowds smoking and drinking outside, sharing jokes, stories and threats. You couldn't go a minute without someone starting a fight. But that was just Lowtown; messy, glorious and wild and she wouldn't change it for anything.

Not even half way down the street, Isabela tugged her out of earshot of Anders, who was trying to spy sleepy cats through the window of the pet shop. “Did anything happen between you and Varric?”  
“No?” She shrugged as casually as she could manage. “Why?”  
“I don't know. It just felt like that to me.”

Okay so they'd really fucked up, hadn't they? There was good reason why sleeping with your friend – _best_ friend – isn't exactly encouraged. What the fuck was going to happen now?

“I don't know” was all she could manage without feeling the need to throw up.

Would they pretend it had never happened? Probably, but she wouldn't be able to look at him the same way. That line had already been crossed. But it's not like they had any other options. Letting it happen again was probably never going to be on the agenda. And she could live with that, she'd have to, but if he never acted like usual around her again-

For once, she decided to take her mother's advice and sleep on it. Chainz wasn't exactly thrilling that night anyway, despite Maryden's best efforts.

Praise the maker for Isabela giving her a joint for the walk home. She probably would have snapped and taken up an offer for a fist fight without it.

Well, sleeping on it didn't exactly change anything, but at least the mild hangover gave her an incentive to do something about it. So, still curled up in her bed covers, she sent him a picture of a mabari wearing a top hat. It was a start, at least.

Usually she'd have ignored that there was a problem, but she knew Varric well enough to know that he'd probably do exactly the same thing and years down the line, they'd be sitting, wondering what went wrong with their friendship. No, that wasn't going to happen.

 _Cute,_ he'd replied. Okay, so she had his attention, at least.  
_How are you?_  
Okay. You?  
Bored tbh, You free tonight by chance?

The 'seen' icon flashed beside her message, but he didn't seem too eager to answer. Shit yeah, she'd _really_ fucked up now.

 _Sure._ He finally sent. _Want to come over?_

If she could just stop her brain from over-reacting then that would be great.

 _Is 4 okay?_ She typed.  
Sure, see you then.  
See ya.

Well, at least there was that. But it was only just 11, so she couldn't sit around the house all day and wait for four o'clock to come around. It seemed like a nice day, so once the worst of her headache had gone, she made herself presentable, grabbed her things and walked into town.

  


Summer was well underway in Kirkwall and Hawke hated it. Well, maybe that _was_ a little strong. The feeling of the sun on her skin was definitely something she'd missed, but the sweltering heat and immediate regret of wearing black was definitely something she hadn't missed. But she figured may as well make the most of it.

The gardens in Hightown were packed, but she found a quiet spot, popped on her massive headphones, bunched up her jumper over her face and listened to something chilled. She was never more grateful that iced tea was a thing over here.

What was she even going to say to Varric when she saw him? She couldn't exactly wing it, that would probably just make matters worse. Worst case scenario... shit, that would be if they stopped being friends. Fuck, she couldn't even imagine not having Varric in her life. Not hearing his stories, the games of Wicked Grace, ranting to him about work, joking with him about things that – quite frankly – they shouldn't even be joking about...

She turned her music up to almost deafening levels to drown that thought out. Worrying about it was probably only going to make things worse.

Maybe she was wrong about summer. It was rather nice to sit in the sun and let time pass by. In fact, what time even was it? Ten past four. Ten past four? Shit. Now she was faced with her least favourite; take the disgusting express bus to Lowtown or run. Any bus ride would be disgusting in this heat, so she opted to run.

It was about quarter to five before she found herself at his door, exhausted and on the verge of collapse. But she was here and ready to face the music, already pushing the handle to his door. It still puzzled her how he felt safe to keep the front door unlocked, but Varric was the kind of guy to see the best in people. She almost envied him at times.

“Hello?” She called, following the sound of laptop keys.  
“Oh, hey.” He smiled, looking up from behind his desk, his laptop already closed. “How are you?”  
“Good, yeah.” She mumbled, shuffling off her bag and jacket and plonking herself onto the sofa. “You?”  
“I'm okay. Can I get you anything?”  
“Do you have any cider?”  
“I think so?”  
“It's been absolutely boiling all day. Can you believe some people out there are wearing jackets?” A non-committal grunt came from the kitchen. “Well, maybe _you_ would. I'm still not used to heat like this.”

Okay, so maybe he wasn't in the mood for small talk. He probably had an agenda. Well, this was _Varric._ He always had some sort of agenda, even if it was just making sure that everyone was eating enough.

“So how've you been?” He asked, handing her a cider and moved into the space beside her. Had he not noticed he'd kinda already asked that? Oh well.  
“Apart from the heat, I'm pretty good. You?”  
“Fine, yeah. I've been fine.”

Silence descended upon the two as they had some of their drinks. From the kitchen, the radio was still chattering away, cheerfully optimistic despite how she felt. It almost felt like she was siting beside a stranger, no idea what to say or do. She hadn't even noticed that she was drinking one of the ciders she'd brought yesterday. No wonder she liked it so much.

“Did you hear about Blondie?” He eventually said, breaking the silence.  
“No?”  
“He got the results of his first year exam this morning.”  
“Yeah?”  
“He passed.”  
“That's awesome!” She made a mental note to text him congratulations, but she knew she'd probably forget and end up telling him next time she saw him in person. “So eh, shall we maybe...” She motioned towards the TV. “watch something?”  
“Oh yeah, sure.” He reached for the TV remote. “Any requests?”  
“What was that one you were telling me about? The one with the spies and there was like, a cake shop or something?”  
“Oh, yeah. Do you want me to put it on?”  
“Yeah, thanks.”

He reached for the remote and clicked through put on the film, but she just _knew_ it was going to be background noise, either way. For once, they sat in silence; no commentary, no snarky jokes. Nothing. Even when one character made a joke about how all dwarves have beards, he didn't even flinch. Instead, he just sat, staring intensely at the TV, his face the closest to a scowl that she'd seen in a long time. There was something unsettling about him tonight. She didn't even know what, but whatever it was, this wasn't the Varric she knew.

So she got out her phone and started scrolling intermittently through the less action-packed parts of the film. Wait, she had a message from him?

 _Are you still coming?_ He'd sent it at half four. She almost wanted to type something back as a joke, like _no_ or something, but he wasn't exactly in the mood for jokes.

The slight burning sensation at the back of her neck told her he watching her out the corner of her eye. She hazard a glance over and his eyes shot back to the TV. Strange.

She was relieved when the film ended, even if the cliffhanger was probably supposed to be a lot more tense than it actually was.

And so, another silence descended on them, this one even more awkward than before. He ran a hand through his hair and swallowed, his mouth hanging ajar. Oh boy, here it came.

“I just want to say-”  
“Is this about my birthday?”  
He blinked, silent for a moment. “Y-yeah.”  
“Well I hope you don't mind if I speak first.”  
“No, yeah. Go ahead.”  
“To be honest, I'm only going to regret what happened if you do.”

He paused a moment, taking in the words, his face changing into a look half way between laughter and confusion.

“To be honest,” She continued, ignoring how hurtful that look was. “I don't want to regret it. And I'm just going to put it out there that I wouldn't mind it happening again, but I don't want you to feel like you have go along with what I want.”

Still silent. You know it's bad when even Varric can't find the words. She let out a heavy sigh, turning her head away, already planning an escape route in case she happened to say anything hurtful.

“If you don't want to do it again, I get it.”  
“No, I'm just... I _do_ want to keep going.”  
“You _do?_ ”  
“Yeah.”  
“Oh, right. Okay.” So _that_ changed things.  
“It's just that I'm...”  
“Overthinking again?”  
“Well, they _do_ say to stick with what you're best at.” He tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

She reached for her cider, only to find it empty.

“Want another?” He offered.  
“Sure, if you don't mind.”

He returned with a cider in each hand and a proper smile settling on his face. Okay, so maybe they had both just been over-reacting. Nothing had to change between them if they didn't want it to. It was _their_ friendship anyway, not anyone else's. They could do what they wanted.

“So what did you get up to today then?”  
“Just chilled up town. Sat in Hightown gardens for a while.”  
“Was it not overrun with tourists?”  
“Yeah, but I found a quiet spot. I almost fell asleep it was so warm. That's why I was late, I ended up having to run here.”  
“Oh right, I was wondering why.”  
“Yeah, I got your message during the movie. I kinda wanted to text back 'no' just to see how you'd react.”

A soft chuckle escaped from him and suddenly it was as if the spell had been broken. Everything was back to normal and he felt like her best friend again. It was as if neither of them had even worried in the first place. She shuffled sideways so they could talk a little easier, swinging her legs over his.

“So what did you do today then?” She asked, prodding him with her toe.  
“Mostly cooking.”  
“Oh, hows the writing going? Aveline said you'd been having writer's block.”  
“I've managed to mostly push through it.”  
“Oh, good.”

He looked over at her, face half illuminated in the early evening light, a twinkle in his eye that hit her straight in the stomach. Shit.

“Actually, do you have any wine?”  
“Maybe? I'll go have a look.”

She moved her legs out the way and he hopped up and into the kitchen. The sound of bottles clanking filtered through.

“I have some here.” He called through, his voice muffled by a cupboard. “Is white okay?”  
“Sure.”  
“It's not been in the fridge or anything.”  
“I'm not fussy.”

He came back through, bottle in one hand and two glasses balanced in the other.

“Are you having some too?”  
“Why not? It _is_ Saturday night.”

He sat down beside her and she stretched her legs onto him again. She accepted a glass of wine from him. She almost proposed a toast, but that would have just been cheesy. And not in the good way.

“Maker, how long has have you had this kicking about?”  
He opened his mouth, but quickly shut down. “I'm not sure, actually.”  
“It tastes rank.”  
“Ah, sorry about that. I can get you something else if you want.”  
“It's not like I drink wine for the taste anyway.”  
“True.”

At least she could say it was alcoholic. That was all she needed right now.

“So have you recovered from your defeat last night?” She smirked over the rim of her glass.  
“Don't remind me.” He grumbled.  
“You know, I don't think I've ever seen you play Wicked Grace so badly before. I wish I'd known, I would have bet more. You paid for my lunch today, maybe I could have even got an ice cream.”  
“Oh, shut up.” The glint in his eyes filled her with more confidence than was probably wise.  
“Make me.”  
A smirk took hold of his face, and he leaned in closer. “What was that?”  
“Make me.”

He pulled her in, with maybe a little more hesitancy than she expected, kissing her cheek. Bless, it was almost as if they hadn't already had sex. His lips met hers and suddenly all she could taste was the wine. Somehow it tasted so much better from him.

She shuffled onto his lap, her hand sliding from his neck, down to his chest and suddenly happy wasn't even a strong enough word for how she felt. Maker, she felt like laughing. This was the best thing to happen to her since... she didn't even know when. But whatever laughter she felt died before it had a chance to exist when his hand curled under her t-shirt. He ran his hand over the curve of her waist, as if asking permission to go higher. Of course, she grabbed his hand and used it to cup her breast, letting a soft moan escape. Her bra was in the way, so that had to go. And her top. His hands explored once more, tracing over the soft skin of her torso, her breath hitching every time he ghosted over a nipple.

 _He_ was still too clothed though, so that had to change. She set to work unbuttoning his shirt, button by button, exposing more and more of his chest until it lay discarded on the floor. Her trousers soon joined them, along with his and suddenly she was on top of him again, her legs at either side of his, any remaining worries pushed away, discarded beside their clothes crumpled on the floor.

His hand crept between her legs his fingers swirled around her entrance, teasing her, testing her.

“Oh holy-” She groaned as his finger slowly pushed in, “...fuuuuck.”

She grabbed at him, _desperate_ for a kiss, his tongue swirling into hers, her body heaving against his as his fingers sped up more. Her hand reached for his cock, slowly sliding her fist up and down as she felt it harden at her touch. He moaned against her mouth so _deliciously_ that it nearly robbed her of air.

Holy shit, she hadn't even realised how close she was until his thumb rubbed against her clit and she bucked against him, wishing, _willing_ him harder. Her face burned, singed from being so close to him. Fuck, it'd been ages since her face had felt so hot. It meant nothing, of course, it was just the heat, but it didn't stop her wishing for the rain of the Fereldan summer.

Her other hand wrapped itself around his neck, fingers gripping at his hair. He responded by burying his face in her neck, leaving her littered with delicate nips. She retaliated back by cupping his balls and pounding his dick even harder. His face contorted with pleasure, a deep flush spreading over his face as her hand gripped tighter still, his breath more raged with every push, his fingers pushing into her even faster, even harder.

Suddenly, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth fell open, letting out a low, quiet groan as she felt her hand get warm and wet. For a moment he seemed so brain-dead he forgot his fingers was still inside of her. But she got to see the look on his face as he tipped over the edge, his eyes clamped shut, teeth gritted as euphoria washed over him and she could say for certain, it was worth the wait.

His lidded eyes opened and met hers and fuck, wasn't that just something?

“You okay?”  
“Yeah.” He gasped.  
“You sure you're not dying?”  
He let out a breathy laugh that didn't exactly instil her with confidence. “I'm pretty sure I'm not.”  
“Do you want to keep going?”  
“Of course.”

She let out a devilish grin and pushed her lips against his, pinning him where he was. His hand got back to work, thrusting into her as she moaned through gritted teeth.

She couldn't stop thinking about Varric though, how he looked when he came, lost in the pleasure, making those amazing noises. The fact that _she_ was the reason for those noises, the reason why he looked so hot and bothered was almost enough to push her over the edge. That was how he must have looked when he was fucking her. And now she was on top of him, kissing him with more fervour than she'd felt in a long time. Fuck, how lucky was she?

He pulled her in closer, still, his stubbled face in her neck, licking and nibbling as his fingers swirled and pushed in and out of her, her body rocking against him, her chest pushing against his. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She could barely _breathe_ , shaking as his other hand scraped against her nipple.

Without any warning, she shattered, jerking against him as, her walls clamped around his fingers as they continued to pound, waves of orgasm washing over her. Breathy moans fell from her lips, fingers clenching onto his shoulder so hard that he'd probably end up with a mark or two. But it was so fucking worth it.

Once her legs couldn't keep her up any longer, her body fell limply against his as she struggled for air.

“Well...” He smiled but his eyes were were a little too serious for her liking. “How was that?”  
Not a single intelligible word could be found. Instead she sat, mouth limp, blankly nodding her head.  
“Hello?” he chuckled, “Have I killed you?”  
“Pretty damn close.” She mumbled, clambering off him, another case of the jelly-legs already settling in.

After a moment to recover, she managed to haul herself upright, grab her clothes from their hiding places around the room and stumble to the bathroom to get cleaned up, trying not to let Varric see the stupid grin spreading unapologetically over her face. Was it possible that had been better than last time? It certainly seemed it.

A little cleaner and more composed, she waltzed back into the living room and grabbed her things.

“You know, I have some food left over from the stuff I made earlier if you want some.”

She had to stop herself laughing at the offer. Old habits die hard, it seemed, but it was already- wait, what? After ten?

“I better get going. You know, what with the twins.”  
“Of course, yeah. You're welcome any time.”  
“You'll regret saying that.” She joked.  
“I doubt I will.” He retorted, trying to get some control over his hair.  
“See you later.”  
“Bye.”

This time when she left Varric's, she didn't feel burdened or worried. She walked out with a grin on her face and skip in her step. She'd just got laid, why wouldn't she be cheesing?

  


\- - - - - - - -

  


“So you've lived here how long?”  
“About six months.” She huffed, desperately trying not to let him see how unfit she was.  
Varric quirked an eyebrow at her. “And in all that time you've never been up here?”  
“I never really wanted to. I like nature, but not when I have to do exercise in it.”  
“I'm usually the same, but this is worth it.”

Why she'd agreed to spend her evening hiking half way up a mountain with someone she'd only met a few days ago was completely beyond her. Or at least, she'd have liked to think that. There _was_ a reason, but pretending that reason didn't exist was much, much better. “A tour of the city” he said. Did that have to include the whole city perimeter?

The ground crumbled beneath them, loose rocks and plants tumbling down the narrow path. Just _how_ were they going to get down? It was already getting dark.

“Is this even safe?”  
“Oh yeah, don't worry, it's completely-” He lost his balance and grabbed hold onto her arm. “-safe! Well, as long as you're careful.” He let go of her arm too quickly for her liking. “Sorry about that.”  
“Naah, it's fine.” She smiled, subconsciously rubbing where his hand had been.  
“I've not been here in ages. I'm not keen on going alone and Bianca doesn't really like it much up here here.”  
“So how long have you two been together then?”  
“Seven years. Coming up to eight soon.”  
“Whoa, congrats!” Almost eight years and they were still happy? How was that even possible? “How did you guys meet?”  
“Our families did a lot of business together so we saw each other a lot as we grew up.”  
“Ah, so you two were childhood sweethearts?”  
“I guess you could say that.”  
“Your families must have been chuffed then.”

Something flashed over his face, but he scratched his forehead before she could see.

“Actually, her parents hate me.” He shrugged. “We make it work, though.”  
“They hate you? How is that even possible?”  
He smiled feebly, “You're a good liar.”  
“Not as good as most people think. And I wasn't lying then. Genuinely, I don't get how anyone could dislike you.”  
“If the journalism doesn't work out then I guess I can always keep you around for pointless flattery.”  
“That would be a first. Most people keep me around for pointless insults.”

She earned a bark of laughter for that crappy joke, her face aflame at the sound. _Shit._

“So going back to Bianca...” Yeah, that was it; distract herself. “Who asked who out then?”  
“You know... I can't actually remember.”  
“Terrible.” She muttered, trying to hide the mirth in her voice.

She was starting to think about convincing Varric to a pint at the Hanged man when the ground finally evened out into a small clearing, big enough for a few people to park their butts.

“Here we are!” He grinned, shrugging off his jacket and spreading it out for them to sit on. “This is the best view, in my opinion.”

Okay, so he was right, the view _was_ pretty amazing. The city shone beneath them, from the dazzling lights of Hightown to the gentle glow of Lowtown. This far away, the city seemed silent, but she knew it was anything but. She hazard a glance at Varric and saw the whole city reflected in his eyes, pride written all over his face. He must have really loved this place.

She sat down beside him and took her shoe off, turning it upside down and shaking it.

“Bloody rocks.” She grumbled. “Maybe it's time to get some shoes without holes in them.”

He chuckled heartily beside her, the closeness burning her skin.

“I can't tell whether you wear clothes with holes in them out of choice or not.”  
“Not really. If I had the money, I'd probably just live in leather. I guess a new leather jacket is the first thing on my list when I have some spare money, though. Along with some new shoes” Her head fell between her knees. “Who knows when that'll be... Not that I'm not glad for the money you're giving me, or anything, I'm just pretty deep in debt at the moment.”  
“It sounds awfully like you need a drink.”  
“I'm going to hazard a guess that you have one with you.”  
“How do you know me so well?”  
“It's a curse, really.” She managed to smirk.

A bark of laughter tore itself free from him, even though she _had_ been telling the truth. Thankfully, he produced a bottle from his bag and broke the seal, handing it to her.

“Shit, I forgot to bring glasses. I hope you don't mind.”  
“Naah, this is nostalgic! Back in high school, groups of us would go sit up the top of the hill outside Lothering and pass bottles and blunts around.”  
“Sounds fun.”  
“It was!” She cried defensively, but he _hadn't_ been sarcastic. For once, someone else saw the enjoyment of getting wasted in the great outdoors. “I haven't done it in a long time so...yeah, this is a good substitute.”

She took a drink of the bottle, the taste burning on her tongue, holding back a shiver. She never was the fondest of whiskey, but Varric was a man of good taste. She would know.

“Oh man, that's pretty good!”  
“Isn't it?” He smiled, his eyes flickering over to her. “That's one of my favourites.”  
Curiosity got the better of her and she turned the bottle around until the label was visible. “Hah, trust you to like the expensive stuff.”  
“I won't deny I'm rather impartial to the finer things in life.” He smiled, the gold rings on his fingers glinting as he took a swig of the bottle. On anyone else, all that gold jewellery would have looked a bit naff, but on him?  
“I think it suits you.”  
“You think?”

She did. He was finery, rich and smooth. Warmth like a real fire and just as rare nowadays, especially in a city like Kirkwall. Fuck, okay, this shit was stronger than she'd thought, but she took another sip just to be sure. Yeah, pretty strong. Maybe she should have had something to eat before she left.

“Hey, don't hog it!”  
“Huh?” She blinked.  
“The drink.”  
She looked down at the bottle once again. “Oh yeah!”

She passed it back, her gaze resting on the lights of the city below, street-lights glowing brighter as the evening grew darker. It was almost romantic. _Almost._ Except for the fact he was taken.

He was taken.

That's what she had to keep reminding herself. But every time she looked at him and saw herself reflected in his honey eyes, it got a whole lot harder to tell herself that.

When he passed her back the bottle, she took as long a swig as her tastebuds would allow. Fuck, couldn't she just have a _normal_ friendship? For once?

“So, since you've asked enough questions about Bianca and I, I think it's time I asked you some.”  
“Ask away, but I can't guarantee I'll answer.”  
“Why did you leave Ferelden?”  
“As I said, money.”  
“And that's the reason?”  
She grit her teeth. Shit, that wouldn't exactly add up when she'd already mentioned she was in debt. “I want a better future for my siblings. Don't you dare tell them that, though. Or, in fact, go ahead and tell them if you want, I doubt they'd believe you.”  
“They're twins, right?”  
“Yeah. What about you?” She tilted her head towards him and raised an eyebrow. “Didn't you say you have a brother?”  
“In the biological sense, yes, but he ran off with my money and invested it in a pyramid scheme. Hazard a guess what happened next.”  
“He lost the money?”  
“That he did.”  
“Fuck. How much are we talking here?”  
“A sizeable amount, but I wasn't bothered about the money as much as it was my inheritance from Mother.”  
“Oh, so is she...?”  
“Dead? Yeah.” He sighed, a slow, resigned sigh.  
“Well, we have something in common, at least.” She couldn't remember the last time she spoke to someone about it. Or the last time she wanted to. “You know, my dad died about four years ago.”  
“I'm sorry to hear that.”  
“Life goes on.” She mumbled, taking a swig.

Of all the words spoken to her after his passing, those were the only ones that actually made sense to her. Not all that “by the side of the maker” shit.

“That it does.” He agreed softly.  
“To be honest, it's been so long without him, I can barely remember what life was like with him still in it.”  
“My dad died when I was two. All I had to remember him by was the pictures Mother hung on the wall. She used to speak to them as if he was still alive.” A bittersweet smile escaped his lips. “Her way of coping, I guess. Oh, and his ears. I apparently have his ears.”  
“They're nice ears.”  
“ _Again_ with the flattery?” He joked.  
“Well, they say you should stick with what you're best at. And honestly, if you were to burst into tears I'd have no idea what to do with you. Better to have you laughing than crying.”  
“True.”  
“Anyway, shall we maybe talk about something cheerier?”  
“Sure.”

She racked her brain for topics as she took another swig.

You know, we could be playing Wicked Grace now if you had a phone that _wasn't_ from the stone age.”  
“I have a deck with me.”  
“What, really?”  
“Why wouldn't I?”  
She shrugged. “You're something else, Varric.”  
“I could say the same about you.” He smirked, already shuffling the deck and handing over her hand.

When was the last time she'd enjoyed someone's company for the sake of enjoying company. Not since Fereldan at least. She could get used to this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have been working on my canon fic, but the heart wants what it wants :')
> 
> Uuuugh, I love my little dorks so much. I loved how I was able to get more of Hawke's personality across, especially when she was such an unreliable narrator and so very depressed in BTFL and because of that, her actual personality didn't come through much.  
> Also writing the flashback was super fun. There'll be a lot more flashbacks coming of course. I'm sure you must know by now that I'm low key addicted to them.
> 
> No idea when the next part will be up.  
> Thanks again for all the kudos and comments! I can't believe this is now over 200 hits!! Thank you everyone!!!


	4. Chapter 4

 

Varric awoke slowly. Shit, it was already past eleven? Maybe it wasn't the best idea to flick through old photo albums with only a bottle of brandy to keep him company last night if he wanted to be productive today.

Of course, first thing he did was check his phone. Top of his message list was Hawke, no surprise there.

 _Are you free today?_ She'd sent him about an hour ago. _  
I've got some writing to do._ He typed back.  
_Weren't you going to have a day off? Tbh I think you need one._

She had a point, he had been planning to take some time off. He didn't want to turn back into a workaholic if he could help it.

 _I guess I've got no plans then._  
_What a coincidence, I've got the place to myself from 12. Want to chill at mine?_  
_Chill? Is that what you kids call it these days?_  
_Haha, it can be if you want it to ;)_  
_I'll probably head over in a while then. I'll let you know when I'm on my way._  
_Cool. See ya then._

 

Around half twelve, he found himself knocking at Hawke's front door. Strange, he used to visit here all the time and now he barely did. When even was the last time he'd come here? Maker, if he'd known back then that they'd be-

“Varric, man am I glad to see you!” Hawke smiled, throwing her door open wide. “Get your ass in here.”  
“You're in good spirits today.”  
“I am _now_.” She smirked, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Shitty morning, I'll tell you about it later.”

She motioned towards the bedroom, letting him go in first. Maker, how long had it been since he'd been in _here_?

“I like what you've done with the place.”  
“I know you're being sarcastic, but I'll have you know that I actually tided for once.”  
“I'm honoured.”  
“You should be.” She grinned, a hand reaching towards her top.

With a flourish, she threw it off, flying to the other side of the room, a predatory look in her eye. He'd only been here a minute and they were already going to do this? A bit of a warning wouldn't have gone amiss. Also so much for the room staying clean, especially if she was just going to throw her clothes about.

Swallowing down his worry and tendency to overthink, he pushed his lips against hers, shoving her further against the bed in the process, her delicious moans humming against his lips. A hand curled its way around her wrist pinning her to the bed and he was rewarded with a low, satisfied moan. Huh, so she liked to be submissive? He'd be lying if he said he wasn't surprised.

His shirt came off soon after, earning a nod of approval from her as her eyes slid down his chest. Nimble fingers tugged at her fly, pulling the tight denim down her slender legs. Upon them was a cornucopia of scars. Dragon slaying, she liked to call it. Each one told a story of her past, the past she was trying to forget. Maybe one day he could learn the stories.

But now wasn't the time for thoughts like that.

By now, her jeans were abandoned, crumpled on the floor as he focused on the insides of her legs, starting at her ankles, pecking and nipping at the soft skin all the way up to her thighs. His eyes flickered up and he noticed her watching him. The smirk that grew on her lips was nothing short of stunning. Man, he could get used to this. Her legs were burning against his face, tensing and writhing as he made his way up, a hand entwining into his hair, the tie loosening under her clenched fingers, pulling him closer to-

“Varric!” She hissed, tapping frantically on his shoulder.  
His head popped up, hair falling in front of his eyes, but he could clearly see the fear painted on her face. “What is-?”  
“Sis?” A voice called from outside the room. “Are you in?”  
“Fuck.” She scoffed, rubbing her face with her hand, scraping it through her hair.  
“Are you in your room?” They tensed as the doorhandle began to turn. “I need to talk-”  
“DON'T COME IN!” She cried, a hand grappling for her dragon bed cover.  
“What?”

The door paused, ajar. Just a little more open and she'd see what they were doing. Varric held his breath, scared to even move.

“But why?” Poor Sunshine, she sounded so hurt.  
“I eh, didn't realise you'd be home so early.” She was a step away from self deprecating laughter. “I... kind of have a visitor over.”  
“A visitor? But-” The realisation dawned. “Oh, a _visitor_? So you're- Maker's breath! Couldn't you have sent me a message?”  
“I've been a little too busy for that. Couldn't you have sent me a message to say _you_ would be back?”  
“Ugh! I'm grabbing my lunch and leaving so you can have the place to yourself again. I'm sorry I even bothered.”

They exchanged awkward glances as the footsteps got quieter. It was weird that Bethany didn't know he was here, almost like he was intruding on something private between the two of them. Hawke seemed less bothered though, picking at her nail with a frustrated look on her face. Not even a moment later the footsteps came storming back with a vengeance.

“Marian!”  
Her head twitched up and her brows knitted together at the sound of her given name. “You _do_ know you're ruining the mood, right?”  
“Did you eat _my_ yoghurt!?”  
“No? Maybe Carver did.”  
“He doesn't even like yoghurt!”  
“Well, it was sitting about for ages. Maybe someone else ate it?”  
“What, like who?” She paused, for a moment. “One of your _visitors_?”  
“I don't know, maybe?”

Oh. He hadn't even considered that she was maybe still sleeping with other people. It wasn't like they'd even talked about it. The walls of the room suddenly felt just a little closer. Strange.

“Fuck's sake, Marian! I've already had a shitty enough day without _you_ making it worse. Well, don't you worry, _Marian_. I'll leave you to your ' _visitor'_.”

Footsteps thundered down the hallway, joined by the sound of the front door slamming and then, silence. The two looked at each other for a moment, no idea how to recover from that.

“Always one for making an exit.” She mumbled, forcing a fake laugh. “Erm... Sorry about that.”  
“No worries. Are you wanting to keep going?”  
“Not really...” Something sour tugged at the edge of her mouth. “That kind of killed the mood.”  
“Yeah.”

He didn't quite know why he expected to be the only person Hawke was sleeping with. She was never one for being quiet about her sexual endeavours, well, apart from now.

“So, you said you had a shitty morning-”  
“Don't even remind me.” She grumbled, teeth grit together as she ran a hand through her hair. “Honestly, don't.”  
“Right.” He knew he shouldn't prod a sleeping bear, but- “Are you okay?”  
“I'm completely fine. Is it not _obvious_?”

He wasn't going to take the bait. If there was one thing Bianca had taught him, it was not to take the bait. There was no point in letting it turn into an argument.

“Shall we maybe... do something?”  
“Yeah, sure.”

But neither of them made any move to do anything. The whole atmosphere of the room had changed in those few minutes and Varric certainly didn't like it. He wasn't staying long enough for it to get worse.

“In fact, would you mind if I head off?”  
“Oh, sure.” She sighed. “Go ahead.”

He quickly popped his shirt back on, gave his face a splash of water in the bathroom and scraped his hair back into its ponytail. When he popped his head around to say goodbye, she was still naked, sitting, staring blankly at one of her many dragon posters.

“Are you sure you're okay?”  
She jumped, blinking at him for a few seconds. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.” A rather unconvincing performance, but not her worst.  
“I wouldn't mind staying if you want me to.”  
“Oh, no. You better get going.” She rose to her feet and set about collecting her clothes, her teeth permanently grit together.  
“Well, I guess I'll see you later.”  
“Bye.”

He made a point to close the door quietly behind him.

Well, if he could just erase all of that from his mind then that would be great. If there was ever a space of five minutes he didn't want to relive ever again, that would probably be at least fifth on the list.

If that was ever going to do that again, they'd have to make doubly sure they wouldn't be interrupted like _that_ again. Imagine if Bethany had opened the door even a little more? If she'd seen them... Maker, the thought made him sick to his stomach. She was the little sister he'd never had, she didn't need to see _that_. Not _Sunshine._

Maybe a detour through the park would help lift his spirits a little. It didn't seem to do anything for the twisting of his stomach, though.

Speak of the devil, was that Bethany? Hunched over on a shady bench, munching angrily away at a meal deal, fire in her eyes you could spot from a mile off, too busy in her own mind to notice him approaching. Yeah, it was!

“Hey, Sunshine.” He waved.  
“Oh, Varric!” Her face lit up within a second, a wave of guilt already hitting him. “I didn't see you there. What are you up to?”  
Sometimes the simplest lie was the most effective. Not that he wanted to lie to Sunshine of all people. “I was just going to pop in for Hawke.”  
“Well,” she scoffed, tearing a chunk out of her sandwich, “don't even bother seeing _Marian_.” Her lip curled into a sour grin as she relished her sister's given name. “She's currently occupied with a ' _visitor'._ ”  
“Oh, right. I didn't know. Thanks for the heads up.” He stepped towards the bench, into the cool shade. “Mind if I join you then?”  
“Go ahead. Want a crisp- I mean, potato chip.”  
“No thanks.” Prawn cocktail? What was it with Fereldans and their weird flavours. “How's life treating you?”  
“Ugh.”  
“Care to elaborate?”  
“Teacher college.”  
“Ah, fair enough.”  
“I mean, they're treating us like like machines rather than people. How am I supposed to write a five thousand word essay in one week on top of placement?”  
“That's ridiculous!”  
“Isn't it!?”

She took a bite of her sandwich, chewing with an ire he'd never seen her show before. Poor Sunshine, he was no stranger to overwork.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”  
“Tempting, but no. I'd feel bad if I had to cheat to get this degree. Plus, I don't know if you have a good enough understanding of the school system.”  
“True, but I know a thing or two about proof-reading at least. Or even if you don't have time to cook I can send you something over.”  
“I may take you up on that when I have to write my thesis.”  
“It sounds awfully like you need a break though. Why don't you come join Hawke and I and some of our friends for Wicked Grace at mine.”  
“That's on Friday, right?”  
“Yeah.”  
She paused a second, a slice of orange paused just shy of her mouth. “You know what? Yeah, I think I will.”  
“And see if Junior will come along too.”  
“I'll ask him.” She smiled again, a breath of fresh air, especially when his lungs felt on the verge of collapsing since she stormed into the flat. “I'm looking forward to it.”  
“Me too! It'll be great to have you over.”

Someone walked by, ice cream in hand and he realised how much he wouldn't mind one right now. That was at least the sixth person he'd seen with one. Maybe there was a stand nearby. Oh wait, if Sunshine couldn't have her yoghurt then-

“It's pretty hot, don't you think?”  
“I hate all the sun over here. I get the worst sunburn on my scalp, but I always forget to take a hat with me.”  
“Would you care for an ice cream? My treat.”  
“I couldn't possibly ask you to buy me one!”  
“You're not asking me, I'm offering. Plus, I think I owe you for warning me about Hawke's um, visitor.”  
A smile curled at her lips. “Oh, I guess that's true.”  
“Any particular flavour.”  
“Strawberry?”  
“Then strawberry it shall be.”

He shot her a smile and walked over to the stand. Poor Sunshine. She was often the one having to deal with the aftermath of her sister's bad decisions. It was only fair to do what he could to make her feel better, especially when it _was_ sort of his fault this time.

He returned to the bench a few moments later with two ice creams, laden with sprinkles and sauce. Bless, her face lit up at the sight of it.

“So,” He sighed, handing the cone over. “How's the rest of life treating you, then?”  
“Not much better if I'm honest.”  
“How so?”  
“My cretin of a sister.”  
“I see.”  
“I know, I get it, she's your best friend and you're obligated to take her side, but right now I just need to rant.”  
“I'm not going to interfere, you go ahead.”  
“I just... hate living with her sometimes.”  
“How so?”  
“She's inconsiderate. You know, I almost walked in on her with her _visitor_.” She visibly shivered.  
It took all of his acting skill to look shocked.“No!”  
“Yeah!”  
“And she's always nagging me. I don't need someone else mothering me, my own Mother is bad enough!”  
“I see where you're coming from.”  
“Right? And why should _she_ nag me about what I should and shouldn't do when _her_ life is such a mess! She's such a hypocrite!”

He was just about to say that he thought the flat was pretty clean, but then she'd have known he was over. Yeah, definitely better to think before you say. Bethany certainly wasn't stupid.

“I think she thought moving to Kirkwall would solve all of her problems, but life doesn't work like that. You can't just run away from your problems.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, she and Mum never got along. She basically refuses to speak to her though, even if I hold a phone up to her ear, so of course that's _my_ fault according to Mum. But _I_ can't be held responsible for what my siblings do.!”

Huh, that sounded rather familiar. He could have sworn Hawke had said the exact same thing the other week. Although he thought her reasons for not speaking to Leandra made sense... but nevermind.

And then there's Dad.” She slumped over, staring sadly into her ice cream. “I think she just wants to pretend he never existed.”  
“Having a close family member pass away is never easy. Maybe she didn't find it as easy as she let you believe.”  
“I know, but it just... ugh.” She shook her head and paused to lick a dripping bit of ice cream. “And then there's whatshername.”  
“Who?”  
“You know, her ' _friend_.'” Her lips pursed in thought. “Maker, I could never remember her name.”  
“I still have no idea who you're talking about.”  
“You know, that woman from Fereldan? The one with the...” She motioned towards her hair, but it did nothing to jog his memory. She paused, a stricken look on her face. “...She didn't tell you?”  
“No?”  
“Ugh, please pretend I didn't say anything. She'll probably kill me for telling you.”  
He nodded slowly. “No worries.”

But who was this mysterious _'friend'?_ Someone Hawke moved to get away from, but why? And why didn't she tell him about her before? Did she not trust him?

Bethany let out a slow sigh, reached for her phone.

“Shoot!”  
“You okay?”  
“I'm actually running late for my next class.” She grabbed for her things, doing her best not to get them covered in ice cream. “Thanks for the ice cream and the invitation. I'll let you know for definite in a day or two.”  
“No problem, Sunshine. Have a good day.” And with that, she scampered off.

Well, at least he had plenty to think about.

 

\- - - - - - - -

 

“Sorry for the mess. We still haven't really unpacked yet.”  
“It's honestly fine.”  
“And I couldn't convince Bethany and Carver to go out so they're in. Hope you don't mind.”  
“Of course not, the more the merrier.”  
“Hah. Not when it comes to Carver.”

She unlocked and opened the door to a rather pokey hallway.

“Welcome to the Hawke manor.” She smirked. “You go first. If you just walk straight ahead you'll come to the living room.”

The living room was cramped and stuffed with boxes. A TV sat on a box with a console attached and a guy attached to the console. Was that maybe Carver?

“Is that you back, sis?”  
“Yeah, my friend is here too.”

Friend. _Friend_. He still wasn't quite used to hearing that so often. A woman walked into the room, a bright smile on her face. The family resemblance was so obvious.

“Wait, a-are you-?”  
“ _Told_ you I was friends with Varric Tethras, Beth.” Hawke's grin was nothing short of shit-eating.  
“Oh, so _now_ you've heard of me, Hawke.” He smirked. “Have you even read any of my stuff yet?”  
“No.” Her eyes shifted about. “I just searched you on the internet. I guess you weren't lying about being famous.”  
“Well, at any rate, it's a pleasure to meet you.” He nodded his head at her. “Varric Tethras at your service.”  
“I'm Hawke's sister, Bethany, but I'm going to assume you already know that. Can I just say, you're pretty much the only reason I buy the Kirkwall Times.”  
“I'm flattered.” He grinned. What a nice thing to say.  
“And this waste of space is Carver.” Hawke sighed, pointing to the guy in the corner of the room.

Carver didn't even react, headphones on, staring into the TV, engrossed in his warfare video game.

“Carver?” She punched him lightly in the shoulder and begrudgingly, he moved the headphones of one of his ears.  
“Yes?” He drawled.  
“Don't forget to put the dishwasher on. It's your turn.”  
“Why should _I_ care?”  
“Oh don't be an ass, Carver.”  
“Says you.”  
“Guys, don't fight!” Bethany sighed, already loading the dishwasher. “We have a guest!”  
“Beth, don't do it for him.” Hawke groaned. “He needs to do it for himself!”  
“He can do it when it's my turn. I just don't want us arguing in front of Varric.”  
“No need to worry, Sunshine.” He laughed. “I'm no stranger to sibling arguments.”  
“Sunshine?”  
“I like to give people nicknames.”  
“Oh, so I'm Sunshine?” Her face lit up like her namesake. “I like that!”  
“It suits you!”  
“So...” Hawke coughed awkwardly. “Not to interrupt, but shall we head to my bedroom then?”  
“Sure.”  
“Oh and can I get you anything? We have water, tea or-”  
“No milk left!” Bethany called out.  
“Okay, so no tea... I think we have lemonade, though.”  
“Lemonade is fine.”  
“My room is the one with the dragon on the door.”

He noised down the hallway and stopped outside the door she'd described. Under the picture of two dragons standing gracefully on a rock was a note, assumedly for her siblings.

_Hawke's room. Stay the fuck out._

That hopefully didn't apply to him, so he opened the door. The room that met him was... quite a mess, actually. Clothes were strewn about the floor, although some attempt at making them into piles had been made. Cups and mugs sat about the room, some near the window used as ashtrays. This wasn't exactly the room of someone who had their life together.

Thrown onto a shelf in the far corner of her room was an assortment of objects. A can of spray paint, a tiny teddy bear that was no bigger than his palm, a mabari piggy bank, a red bandana and a set of house keys.

Hawke came crashing in with a drink in each hand, blowing her fringe from her eyes.

“So it turns out we don't have any lemonade, but we have diluting juice. I also have vodka if you want to add that in too.”  
“That's no problem.” He smiled, joining her on the bed and accepting the drink. “I'll pass on the vodka for now.”  
“Suit yourself.” She reached for a bottle on a nearby set of drawers and poured herself a shot or two's worth.

“So I take it you like dragons.” He smirked, noting the many, many dragon posters stuck to the walls. Even her bedcover featured dragons.  
“Yeah, they're just awesome. Like, imagine being able to fly about and hoard stuff?”  
“That's not exactly my idea of a fun.”  
“ _Really_?” She half laughed. “Oh man, good thing I didn't invite you on a night out. I usually spend it flapping my arms around and stealing drinks from strangers. It's not quite the same as being a dragon, but you take what you can get.”

A chuckle tore its way out of him without it meaning to, but she wasn't done yet.

“Although Wicked Grace is sort of like being a dragon. If you win a lot, that is. Maybe I should have got a pair of wings and taught myself how to breathe fire like a circus performer.”  
“If you want.” He smirked, still gazing around the small room. “You have some pretty cool stuff in here, though.”  
“You think?”  
“Yeah, I like that shelf over there.”  
She looked stricken for a second before she flashed a crooked smile. “Yeah?”  
“I feel like there's a story or two there.”  
“Yeah, that's all just stuff from Lothering.” A nostalgic smile spread over her face. “But that was another life.”  
“Do you think you'd ever go back?”  
“To visit, maybe. I could never live there again. There was barely any jobs, everyone there was bloody miserable and there was nothing to do other than watching TV or joining a gang. Oh, or go to the pub.”  
“It was that bad?”  
“Yeah. I wasn't so bothered, but it wasn't what I wanted for the twins, not when they could have a better life than that. I didn't want either of them to make the bad decisions I had. I don't think Bethany would, she was always a goody-two-shoes, but not Carver.”  
“You really care about them.”  
She rolled her eyes, “You say that as if it's a good thing.”  
“I think they're lucky to have you.”  
“Oh, shut up.” She smirked. “What are you trying to do, make me feel good about myself?”  
“It's just a fluke, I swear!”  
“You flatterer.” She beamed, a subtle redness overtaking her cheeks as she reached for her drink. “Now, are we going to play Wicked Grace or what?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm on a roll! It's only been a week since I last posted a chapter so go me. Life has been stuffing me full of emotions that my emotionally constipated self can't deal with through conventional means so I've had a lot of inspiration recently.  
> Next chapter is already kinda written, it just needs a LOT of editing, but yeah, shouldn't be up in too long?
> 
> Once again, thank you so much to everyone who has kudos'd, commented or even read this fic! I don't think I would still be writing as much as I do without your support <3  
> Have a nice day! <3


	5. Chapter 5

Sunlight hit her eyes and the haze of sleep began to fade. She'd forgotten she was even alive. Nice. What even happened last night? Drinking of course, going by the piercing pain behind her eyeballs and that fact her mouth felt as dry as a flip flop. Without bothering to roll off her front, she hauled herself onto her elbows, enough height to look around the room. Ah, so she was at Varric's and she was currently lying on his sofa. That just raised more questions. Oh yeah, they were playing Wicked Grace and then they went to the Hanged Man and-

Oh no.  
She sung Karaoke.

Was it possible to die of embarrassment? Her face felt a spark away from going up in flames. Whoever let her get that stupid idea in their head? And that song choice, why not just announce that she wanted to bonk Varric? Ugh, maker's balls.

With a heave, she made some sort of an attempt to sit up and ran a hand through what little hair was left untangled. All things considered, though, that was the best night out she'd had in... ever? Must have been good, considering she had six missed calls from Bethany.

“Hawke?” Varric's voice filtered in from the hallway. “Is that you up?”  
“I guess?” She grumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Maker, how much _did_ she drink last night? He came into focus, wearing only his dressing gown and some old pyjama trousers. It was rather nice to see him stripped out of his finery.

“So much for going home last night.”  
“Huh?”  
“You said you were going to head home after we... ahem.”  
“Oh. Well I guess I didn't then.” She could feel her smile turn stale, despite her best efforts.  
“Not that I'm complaining or anything.” His eyes shifted towards the kitchen. “Breakfast?”  
“Oh, sure.”  
“Scrambled eggs?”  
“Why not? Could I have a cuppa too?”  
“Tea? Sure, I'll get the kettle on.”

The clashes, scrapes and beeps of cooking soon followed. Maker, it was too early for this, even if it _was_ past lunchtime. But she decided to drape the blanket she found around her and follow the sounds into the kitchen, hopping up onto the counter. As if she needed any more height against him. He stood whisking a bowl of eggs, a soft curl in his lips. His eyes flickered to hers and he flashed her a smile nothing short of stunning. Well, not _that_ stunning. It was probably just the afterglow.

“Good singing last night by the way.” He teased.  
“Fuck's sake, don't remind me. _And_ in front of the twins too!” Oh, that reminded her. “Why were they even there?”  
“I invited them.”  
“Of course you did.” She mumbled to the window.  
“Huh?”  
She shook her head. “Nothing.”  
“Are you still desperate to tell the twins you love them?”  
Something sharp caught in her throat. “What?”  
“After we em-”  
“Had sex?”  
“Yeah. We were talking and you said you were desperate to tell them you loved them.”  
“Really?”  
“Well, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but you did want to give them a hug.”  
“Exaggeration? You?” She threw her hand to her chest, features coloured with mock surprise. “I never thought you were the type!”

He chuckled despite himself, smiling into the frying pan. If only she could have some of that optimism. Letting Varric see her face suddenly didn't seem like the best idea, so she hopped down and threw open some of the cupboards and nosied about. He popped on the radio, an overenthusiastic DJ talking way too loudly about some album that no-one cared about.

“Looking for anything in particular?” He asked.  
“I feel like I might want something else after the scrambled eggs.”  
“Right.” He tapped the spatula against the pan. “I spoke to Bethany, you know.”  
Great, there was more? “Mhm?”  
“I think that if she knew why you don't speak to your mum then she'd understa-”  
“No.”  
She could hear him blink, even with her head in the cupboard. “No?”  
“Sometimes ignorance is bliss.”  
“It isn't always a true happiness.”  
“I don't want to taint the only memories she has of Dad.”  
“Even if she hates you?”  
She shrugged. “I'd much rather she hated me and had happy memories of her childhood. Memories that are tainted are never the same.”

Her fingernails dug into her palm, eyes threatening to leak. This was _not_ the time to be talking about this. If she was a little more drunk she'd probably burst into a hideous song. Not that getting drunk again wasn't tempting.

“Do you want to talk-”  
“No.” She rasped, her throat already closing up. “Let's just... change the subject.”  
“Oh, okay.”

The room was silent, save for the scrape of Varric's spatula against the pan and the rumble of the kettle, but she still felt like she was carrying a mabari on her chest. Fuck, she needed a cigarette or something.

“So...” He cleared his throat. “Last night was fun.”  
“I can't remember the last time I had so much fun.” She scratched her face, taking the opportunity to swipe at her eyes. “Where did that energy come from?”  
“I think I must have tapped into that famous Dwarven stamina.”  
“I'm not complaining.” She half smirked, but it was no use. She closed the cupboards, making sure he couldn't see her face. “I'm just going to pop to the loo.”  
“Sure.”

Fucking emotions. Who needs them? No really, was there _any_ need for the tears streaming down her cheeks? And _why_ was she even crying? All they were talking about was Bethany. But look at her, nothing but a big baby, crying in a bathroom over nothing. Pathetic. She had to pull herself together, stop those damn tears and go back through to enjoy the afterglow of last night. Because man, wasn't that an amazing night? Running through the streets, hand in hand like a couple of happy idiots. And she decided, staring out through the frosted window, that she'd needed that way more than she'd even realised. When was the last time she'd felt so happy? Had she ever? Well, maybe that was pushing it a little, but she was already feeling a bit better.

So with the threat of unwanted emotions gone, she wiped at her face with cold water, dried it off, lead herself out of the bathroom and plonked herself back onto the counter.

“Plans for today?” He asked, his eyes flickering to hers, a soft smile on his face as he slid over a fresh cuppa in his biggest mug. Steam rose slowly in the afternoon light streaming in through the window.   
“It's a nice day...” She turned her head to the window, a sea of people in sunglasses all the way up the street. “I'll probably spend it inside. I have the worst sunburn, it's even started peeling.”  
“I know, you showed me last night. Don't forget to get some after sun or aloe vera.”  
“Oh, right. Yeah.” Would it be awkward to say that she couldn't remember much at all after getting back? “What about you then, any plans?”  
“I was thinking about climbing Sundermount. I can't remember the last time I did.”  
“Let me know how that goes.”  
“Well I was actually thinking that you could maybe come with me if you want?”

If only she didn't have to say no to that puppy-dog face. She took a gulp of tea, knowing full well it would burn her, but it's not like that would ever stop her.

“I don't know how possible that would be. I have-” She paused to check her phone. Oh, even more now? “Seven missed calls from Bethany.”  
“Fair enough.” He shrugged, handing her a plate of scrambled eggs and toast and motioning towards the living room. She followed and flopped onto the sofa with a soft thump, digging into the food with great enthusiasm. “Would you mind if I watch something?”  
“Yeah. Go ahead.”

Oh, a gardening competition? _Really_? It was reasons like this why _she_ should be the one to pick a show. This one was on Lavender, great fields of it stretching before them. Wait, wasn't that what Varric's tattoo was supposed to be?

“You know, you never told me why you got that lavender tattoo.”  
“Lavander was my mom's favourite flower, it was always growing in the front of the house.” He paused, staring blankly at the expanse of it before his eyes. “I can't smell it without thinking about her.”  
“I know the feeling. You know, whenever I hear a motorcycle, somewhere in the back of my mind I think I'm going to see Dad. I get disappointed every time but I just can't help it.”  
“How long has it been now?”  
“Almost four and a half years.” She let out a slow sigh, crumpling in on herself. “It never gets any easier, does it?”  
“No, not really. You just find better ways of coping.”  
Suddenly the competitive gardening started to make sense. “Did she do a lot of gardening, your mother?”  
“When she had the time. She did a lot of it when she was ill, even if I was trying to get her to take it easy.”  
“She was a woman on a mission.”  
“Yeah, you could say that.” His eyes glazed over as a group of people showed off their lavender plants.  
“Those were good scrambled eggs, by the way.”  
“Thanks.”

A soft smile pulled at his lips. It was always so much nicer to see him smile. She didn't even want to think about the time she didn't see his smile for months, it tore her heart to shreds just thinking about it.

She let out a sigh as she shuffled forward on the sofa. “I'll have to head off in a minute though if I want to escape Bethany's wrath.”  
“Fair enough. It was lovely to have you over.”  
“Thanks for letting me crash here.”  
“It's not like I would've thrown you onto the street.”  
A smirk caught her lips as she started grabbing her clothes. “I'd like to think you'd at least put some clothes on me first.”  
“Who knows? I happen to think you look pretty good naked.”  
“Are you taunting me about the song I sung for karaoke?”  
His smile brightened up even further. “No, but now that you bring it up-”  
“Don't,” she grinned, “or I'll run out the door!”  
He burst into laughter, the little lines around his eyes deepening. “You'll be naked, that's not much of a threat.”

Her clothes were quickly thrown on, sniggering as she did so. See, this was how friends with benefits should be done. It was only when she was ready to go that she realised how little she actually wanted to go.

“Let me know how Sundermount goes.” She sighed, tying her shoes. “Maybe take a pic or two for me.”  
“I think I'll wait until another day. I don't like the look of some of those clouds.”  
“Fair enough. I'll let you know next time I'm free. Maybe Monday?”  
“Yeah, just let me know. Well, I guess I'll see you later.”  
“See you.”

She never could get used to the feeling of doing the stride of pride from Varric's. Not that it was too obvious or anything. It was just... ah, she didn't even know what she was on about. Was she supposed to get anything on her way home? Probably. She was always forgetting something. Did they have milk? Bread? Yeah, as far as she knew. Oh well, it couldn't be anything too important then.

“I'm back!” She called out, pushing open the door.  
“Great,” Bethany groaned as she waltzed into the living room. “You're still alive.”  
“You don't seem too thrilled at the prospect.”  
“Oh, so you've finally noticed _something_! Where were you? Isabela said you left to go home, but you never turned up!”  
“I ended up staying at Varric's.”  
“What is it with you and never messaging me these things? I was worried!”  
Well, she couldn't exactly admit why she was too busy for that. “I fell asleep basically as soon as I got there.”  
“Good for you, I'm so glad you enjoyed your night.” She sneered. “I'm heading out in a minute.”  
“What are you up to?”  
“I'm not even going to tell you.”  
“Wow, okay then. Enjoy your day, I guess.” She kicked off her shoes and spread onto the sofa. “Any idea where Carver is?”  
“He's out too. He didn't want to see your face and neither do I, to be honest.”  
“Ah, sibling love. There's nothing quite like it.”  
“Is this all just a joke to you?” She scoffed.  
She shrugged. “Who wants to be serious all the time?”  
“You're _never_ serious, Marian! I can't remember the last time you were serious about anything! And did you get me more yoghurt or did you forget yet again?”  
Yoghurt? That was it! “Shit, I _knew_ there was something I was supposed to get.”  
“Just forget it, I'll get my own yoghurt. That'll be the last time I ever expect something from you.”

The door slammed, something in the hallway smashing in response. Oh great, what was it this time?She shoved on some flip flops in case there was glass on the floor and shuffled through. What she found was one of the picture frames from the wall fallen to the ground, the frame lying in pieces. Shifting the shards of glass, she picked up the photo and turned it over. Oh, it was from the twins' last birthday. They all looked smiley and happy in the picture, but minutes after it was taken they had another argument. What was it even about? It was never about anything important. At least they were happy in the photo, though.

But now she was alone and to make matters worse, her eyes were already burning with the beginnings of tears. Maybe a nap would help. Yeah, she could deal with the mess later. So she stripped down, flopped onto her bed covered by her dragon blanket, forgoing covers in the hazy heat and letting her eyes fall shut.

  
  


\- - - - - - - -

  
  


For once, she woke without an alarm, sunlight streaming into her room. It must have been really late in the day for it to be so bright. She didn't have anything to do today, did she? It felt like she was forgetting something important. Maybe her phone would have some answers. No notifications but-

Oh, it was Satinalia... Right. Her first one in Kirkwall and her first without the twins, too. So yeah, no twins, no mother... she guessed she could do what she wanted. Rising from her bed, the sharp sting of cold hit her immediately, so she wrapped the covers around her as she hunted for more clothes to wear. She slung on another two jumpers that hung off her shoulders, another pair of leggings and pyjama bottoms that had to be rolled up to stop them sliding down her legs. Usually the thought of having lost weight would put a smile on her face, but not this time, not when all she wanted was warmth. When did she become so bony and ill-loking? What _was_ this, an elbow? More like a needle. Ugh.

First thing she did was put on her bluetooth speaker and blast all the songs the others would always complain about. The thing was, it didn't really feel like it usually did, so she switched it off. But that wasn't much better, either. Nothing to do, she wondered aimlessly around her room, ignoring the window and the happy people outside, spending the day with loved ones. Who did she have? It wasn't even worth thinking about. Oh man, she needed to find something to cheer herself up or she'd probably go mad. Well, she could make a cuppa. That was something.

She didn't want to look at the measly decorations on her way to the kitchen, but how could you ignore bright green and red tinsel, already half shedded its fibres. They draped around the flat like an infestation, taped to the walls and furniture, an atempt to hide the cracks and mould, and yet the place still looked so empty, so bare, so sad. The wonky snowman she found on the street was resting against the makeshift TV stand, a scarf of sad tinsel gripping at its neck like a noose as it guarded over the three presents lying beside it. All the baubles in the world couldn't make up for that shameful display. How come they couldn't even afford new Satinalia decorations? Was it _really_ the right thing to bring them here?

But no, that wasn't important. What was she even doing? Tea? Yeah, tea. The sound of the water filling the shitty kettle felt deafening compared to the silence of the flat. Maker, was it always this this empty? It clicked on, a quiet grumbling beginning and growing to a rumble, reaching for her mug and a teabag, the quiet click and fading of the rumble told her it was ready. Steam rose as she poured the boiling water, the warmth tickling at her frozen fingers clamped around the handle, the steam cooling and sticking to edges of her fingerless gloves. Then she reached for a drop of-

Oh. No milk. Great! That idea went down the drain, along with any lingering positivity. Well, if this day was only going to go downhill, she may as well open her present now before she felt compelled to chuck it in the bin. She had no doubt who it was from, it just appeared one day beside the snowman along with two other slightly smaller but equally squidgy parcels, suspiciously soon after a certain someone left to go home. And no-one else really visited the flat, so that left one possible person.

Varric.

She turned the parcel over in her hands, nosying at the fancy paper covered in glitter and a beautiful scene of snow falling on a small village. And the paper was thick, too. None of that flimsy crap that would tear just by looking at it. Shit, if he could afford paper this nice then they must have had a lot of money floating around. And at _that_ time of year? She almost felt bad tearing it, so she carefully tore around the tape, as well as her frozen fingers could manage. A fluffy bundle of red and black poked out and curiosity got the better of her, ripping it out to see... a dragon? Was it a towel? Oh wait, a dragon blanket! It glided over her chilly arms and legs like a hug. Fuck, she was freezing, she could barely move her fingers, even with the fingerless gloves. Wait, how did he know she was planning to get one? She was just going to get a cheap one in the after-Satinalia sales, but this one was so soft and thick, she didn't know if she'd ever be able to get out.

But then her phone rang. Great, just as she was beginning to enjoy herself! Her heart leapt at her sister's name on the screen, a goofy picture from so long ago flashing on the screen. Man, how different she was back then.

“Hello?” She spoke, her voice rusty from disuse.  
“Happy Satinalia! Season's greetings!”  
“Yeah, Happy Satinalia. Carver says hi too.”  
“How are things?”  
The prerecorded response was out her mouth before she could stop it. “Yeah, good. You?”  
“Good. We're about to have lunch. Mum's made her chicken and stuffing pie. It smells so amazing, I cant' wait!”  
“Good, good. There's a present here from Varric when you get back.”  
“Oh, how sweet! He shouldn't have!”  
“I don't think I could have stopped him if I tried.”  
“If you see him about be sure to tell him thanks.”  
“I probably won't see him until after you guys get back. He'll be with Bianca.”  
“Oh yeah, of course. Oh and while I've got you here, Mum wants to have a speak to you.”

Oh no. Oh no-

“Marian?”

That voice gnawed at something deep down inside of her. Something jagged and painful, that she didn't want to remember. No, she'd shut that away years ago.

“Are you there?”

The only answer she would have got was the beep of the call disconnecting. She just couldn't do it, couldn't even speak to her own Mother. Not even on Satinalia.

So here she was, all alone for the holidays without even a single person to spend the day with. What a shitty excuse for a person she was. All she wanted to do was drag her blanket into bed, curl up into a cocoon and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist. So she did. She wasn't going to get back up, not if she could help it. Not even for that gross turkey micro meal thing. Why did she buy it? It's not like she ever ate anything anyway. If she stayed like this all day then she could maybe get away without putting the heating on, maybe save some pennies. Well it's not like she ever put the heating on when it was just her home, anyway.

But this wasn't the future she'd imagined. Not for her and definitely not for the twins. Her lip quivered without consent so she pursed them together, a single tear trickling down her cheek, freezing in the cold air of the room. What a fucking baby she was.

Happy Satinalia, Hawke.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can take flashbacks of my cold dead handssss
> 
> I think with every chapter you see a little more of the sides of Hawke that she tries to hide from other people. By the end of this, you'll probably have a pretty clear picture of why she did a lot of the things she did in By The Firelight. I should probably work on Missing Details but I don't want to fake inspiration, I'd rather wait until it comes... however long that might be.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, kudos-ing, commenting and bookmarking! I love you all <3


	6. Chapter 6

“You really need to improve your aim.” Hawke smirked, attempting to wipe the cum off her neck. _His_ cum. _Shit_.  
“I know,” He babbled, “I'm so sorry. You can- Do you want to have a shower before you head off?”  
“I think I'll take you up on that offer.” She grinned.  
“Of course. My place is your place and all that.”

He grabbed a few towels and she followed, still fully naked. If someone had told him a few months ago that this was what his life would be like then he would have laughed in their face. But here he was with Hawke strolling naked around his house, confident enough to be fully clothed.

“The shower is pretty simple to figure out.”  
“I've used it before, I'll be fine.”  
“Right. Help yourself to any of the soaps and things and there's even more in this cabinet... And I am _really_ sorry.”  
“Oh no!” She cried dramatically, throwing her head back. “I have cum on me!? However will I _live_ with myself? I have been soiled!” She gave him a cheeky wink, her eyes gleaing with mischief. “Anyway, a lot of people would do that on purpose, without even asking and it's just-” She shook her head. “don't worry about it.”  
“Is there anything I can get you?”  
“I'll be fine.” She tried to wave his worry away. “You can keep me company if you want, though. I don't want to chuck you out of your own bathroom.”  
“I-I'll stay if _you_ want me to.”  
“It's the same to me either way. Your choice.”  
He swallowed and nodded before he even knew what he was doing. “Sure, I guess.”

She stepped into the cubicle and he perched onto the toilet seat. Steam quickly engulfed the room, so he could only see a vague outline of her. Honestly, what was he so worried about? She dipped into the shower, first her hands, then her arms as she hopped in and out.

“Are you doing the hokey cokey?  
Her giggle echoed from behind the glass panels. “It's too hot to go in all at once.”  
“Why not turn it down?”  
“I like it this way. It makes me feel alive.” She giggled again, finally able to put her whole arm under.  
“Suit yourself. Just don't use up all of my hot water.”  
“Don't you worry your pretty little head about it. I'll be out in a second anyway.”  
“So...” He swallowed. The blue of her eyes pierced through the frosted and steamed glass, blinking, waiting for him to say something. Fuck, what _was_ he even going to say?  
“So?” She echoed, popping her head around the glass. Her hair was glued to her forehead, so she ran a hand through, blinking the water from her eyes, skin red and blotchy from the heat. For once, he could see the scar that ran across her nose.

“I was just...” Words, words. Find some words, Varric.  
“This isn't a _serious_ conversation, is it?” The scar on her nose crinkled so adorably. “Couldn't you save it for when I'm actually able to run away without risking concussion?” The laugh that escaped her lips told him she was joking, but the truth was there in black and white.  
“I was just wondering... is something going on?”  
“I could ask you the same question.”  
“What do you mean?”

No reply. Instead, she popped back around the glass, her outline stepping straight back into the stream of water, face tilted to the ceiling. He almost forgot that the water was close to boiling point. A moment later, the room fell silent as the shower turned off and she reached for a towel, accepting the one he held out for her.

“I-is everything okay?” The words burnt his tongue,but he couldn't take them back now.  
She paused, the towel flopping haphazardly on her head. “As long as it's okay with you.” She mumbled, resuming the towelling without even looking at him. Not quite an answer, but he didn't know what he expected, really.  
“I'll give you some privacy. I'll be writing, shout if you need me.”  
“Sure thing.”

It hadn't been that difficult to speak to her before, had it? They _were_ best friends, after all and he of all people should know that if she didn't want to talk about something then she wouldn't. He should've expected that from her, not some splurge of how she was feeling. As annoying as it was, if she was better with emotions then she wouldn't really be Hawke, would she? He liked her for who she was, awkwardness and all, but it would be nice if she didn't have such a knack for avoiding questions, though.

So he took himself into the living room and sat at his desk, opening his laptop and clicking on the icon for the story he was currently working on. Or _had_ been, before yet another bout of writers block had rendered him useless. For the first time in ages, the words came freely, flowing onto the page as if he was seeing it happen before his eyes. Words spewed out of him without abandon, not caring if he misspelled one or two. Those could be fixed later. He stopped only to agonise over the right word or to give his fingers a momentary break.

Before he knew it, the chapter was done. The chapter he thought he'd never finish. He was even planning to get rid of it completely and add the character development somewhere else, but here he was, gazing upon his work with wonder. Now if he could just replicate that with about five other chapters then that would be great.

Just then, Hawke waltzed into the room, fully dressed, boots already on, her jacket and bag slung over her shoulder, her hair still dripping. His heart rose to his throat, but he swallowed it back down.

“Oh, so is that you off already?”  
“Yeah.”  
“I have food if you want to stay.”  
“No thanks. You know, the twins.” Her eyes flickered towards the door. “Thanks for the shower, by the way.”  
“It's no problem. And I'm sorry again.”  
“You don't need to keep beating yourself up about it. I've had a lot worse happen to me.” A smirk tinged her lips, but the look in her eye told him not to ask. “Just make sure you aim a bit better next time.”  
“Sure, yeah.”  
“I'm free all of this Friday. We could do something if you want.”  
“No editor meeting?  
“No, it's been moved to next week.”  
“Cool, I'll keep you posted. See you!”  
“Get home safe!”

The door swung shut and just like that, his apartment felt a whole lot emptier.

  
  


\- - - - - - - -

  
  


“I'm home.” A voice drawled from the hallway, telling him all he needed to know about how her work was today.  
“Hello Sweetheart.” He smiled as she kicked off her heels, planted a rather indifferent kiss on his cheek and made her way to the kitchen. “Bad day?”  
“The usual, to be honest.”  
“Well I've took on some more freelance work and I'm beginning to regret it.”  
She stopped in her tracks, head snapped towards him.“You took on _more?_ I thought you weren't going to.”  
“A good one came up.”  
“I see.” She grumbled, making her way back to the kitchen.  
“I know I said I wouldn't, but this one is helping a charity. I couldn't say no!”  
“It's fine, I get it.” The familiar beep and subsequent low hum told him a micromeal was already on the go, as per usual. Her head popped back around the doorframe, her makeup tired and worn from the long day. “So did you get the list I left you?”  
“Yeah.”  
“And?” She folded her arms and leaned a hip on the doorframe. “Did you do it?”  
“I managed to load the dishwasher and put it on.”  
“Is that it?”  
“It was a pretty big list. I had work to do today _too.”_  
“Yes, but you were at home all day.”  
“I was _working_.”  
The sigh that left her lips was nothing short of vexed. “Is it _really_ so hard to put some washing in the machine? It takes five minutes.”  
“I didn't have the time.”  
“You could have done it while you were taking a break? _Maybe_?”  
“I didn't even have time for a break. I've barely left my desk since I got up this morning.”  
“Well now there isn't enough time to get it done and hung up before bed, so the laundry is going to have to wait.”  
“I'm sorry B, I did what I could.”

She was quiet for a moment as she stomped into the kitchen to get her meal from the microwave and slumped onto the sofa. For a while he entertained the notion that she was going to let it go, but he knew he wouldn't be so lucky.

“I'm just sick and tired of having to do so much of the housework.”  
“I've been doing what I can.”  
“I know that, I just...” She glared into her mac and cheese, lips curdling into a frown as she set it aside. “Can't you put your computer away now and help me?”  
“I _really_ need to get this done.” He grumbled, his hands already running through his hair in an attempt to get some sort of grip on his life. “I'm meeting with my editor tomorrow and if I don't have it done then my head's on a pike.”  
“Can't you ask for less work? Or maybe _don't_ take every job that comes your way?”  
“We need the money!”  
“For what?”  
“The wedding! It's going to happen sooner or later so I'd rather have money put away for it.”  
Something flashed across her face, but it was gone in an instant. “That can wait, Varric. I'd much rather be able to spend time with you instead of you stuck behind that screen.”  
“It's my _job_.”  
“I know that, but am I not allowed to want to see more of you?”  
“You see plenty of me!”  
“It's not the same when you're stuck behind a screen!”  
“I can't help that, Bianca!”

There was a fire burning behind her eyes. He'd seen it happen enough times to know there was only one way he could stop this from turning into another beast entirely; a shouting match.

“I'm going to head out.” He grumbled, getting up and reaching for his jacket, legs stiff from hours of sitting in the one place.  
“What!? Why?”  
“We both need to calm down or this'll just turn into an argument.”  
She stormed into the hallway after him, arms folded and teeth bared. “And _where_ are you of to then?”  
“I don't know. I'll maybe see if Hawke is free.”  
“Oh, of _course_ you'd go see _her_!”  
“Don't bring her into this!”  
“It's hard not to when I haven't even met her properly!”  
“You will, I'll sort something out.”  
She scoffed, flinging her arms about. “Are- are you not _getting_ it? Can't you see why she's so infuriating to me?”  
“She's my friend, Bianca! Am I not allowed to have friends? I mean, _I_ put up with _your_ friends.”  
“How often do I get to see them, Varric? When was the last time you even sat in the company of one of my friends, hmm? And yet it's completely fine for Hawke to see more of you than _I_ do!”  
“You know that's not true.”  
“I happen to think it is.” She spat, edging closer.

He took a deep breath and let his heated reply disappear. No point in taking the bait, enough damage had been done tonight already.

“I'll see you later.”  
“Varric!” She cried, but the door was already shut.

A deep breath in... and a deep breath out. A quarrel every now and then was normal, all they needed to do was calm down and talk it out like adults once they were both a bit more level. He took out his phone, tapping as he thundered down the steps of the building.

 _Are you free?_  
At the Hanged Man. I'll buy you a drink if you join me.  
Coming now.

Out the door and round the corner, he reached the Hanged Man in record time. Storming in, he found Hawke at their usual table, face resting on her fist, scrolling through her phone with the same excitement she usually reserved for dragons or mabari.

“Hey!” She grinned, kicking out a chair for him. “No laptop this time? Don't you have work to do?” She took one look at his face and sat straight up, pocketing her phone. “What's up?”  
“Bianca.”  
“Oh.” Surprise flitted over her face, but soon morphed into something rather artificial. “Shall I get that drink I promised you and you can let it all out?”  
“Sure. Only a single, though.”  
“No problem.” She grinned, giving him a cheeky finger gun as she rose from the table. She returned a moment later and slid two drinks over to him, a third for her. “You didn't specify how many singles.” She smirked, watching him take a sip. “So... what's going on then?”  
“We had an argument.”  
“Another one?”

 _Another_ one? But they didn't fight that much, did they? Well, there was that disagreement about the wedding and when it was going to happen, but that was a while ago now. Oh and there was that one about whether her parents would be there. And about how many books he had. And- Shit yeah, they _did_ argue a lot.

“Yeah, another one.”  
“What about?”  
“Lots of things. I apparently don't do enough housework, I work too much, she doesn't get to see me enough...”  
She blew a raspberry. “Well _that's_ not exactly fair. You need to earn money.”  
“And I've just been working myself to the bone to get money for the wedding... but it feels like we're going nowhere.”  
She huffed and rolled her eyes, taking big gulps of her drink. “It's like she doesn't appreciate you!”  
“I... I wouldn't go that far, but I wish she just tried to see things from my point of view a bit more. I mean, she got annoyed that I was going to see you.”  
Her eyebrows disappeared behind her fringe. “She did?”  
“Yeah, she was saying that I see more of you than I do her, which is ridiculous! I see her every day! How often do I get to see you? Once, twice a week?”  
“Exactly! I'd be lucky to see you as often as she does.” She let out a strained sigh, leaning a little too far to the side in her seat, tipping the last of her drink into her mouth with a flourish.  
“How long have you been here?”  
“I... don't know, a... few hours?”  
She hadn't been drinking that whole time had she? “Shall we maybe order some nachos or something?”  
“Sure. I guess I'm pretty hungry.”  
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Have you eaten today?”  
“I think? Oh wait, I had a banana for breakfast... or was that yesterday?”  
“Is that it?”  
She shrugged, tapping a fingernail against her glass. “Yeah.”  
“Hawke, you need to eat!”  
“Says you. What have _you_ eaten today?”  
“A tin of soup and some bread.”  
“Okay, you win. Shall we stuff ourselves with highly calorific food to make up for the nutrition we've missed? That's what I do and I haven't died yet.”  
“Order what you want then. It's on me.”  
“No, I can't let you do that all the time! I just got paid yesterday so let me treat you for once.”  
“You have the money?”  
Her eyes shifted a little. “In theory.”  
“What about going halves?”  
Her nose crinkled, but she relented with a sigh. “Fine, but we better have a fucking feast. You get the Wicked Grace cards ready, I'll go order.”  
“Sure.” He smiled, reaching for his deck.

Hawke returned soon with more drinks, plates upon plates of food following suit as they picked up their hands and began to play, the whiskey warming him only half as much as the company. She caught his eye with a cheeky grin; ah she must have had a good hand. He wasted no time in digging into the newly arrived food. Andraste's ass, was he hungry!

“So... what do you think you're going to do about Bianca then?” She asked, putting a card down with a quizzical look.  
He paused a second until his mouthful of nachos was gone. “Shit, I don't know. I can't take on any less work, or at least for a while and I can't do any more around the house that I don't already do without sacrificing sleep... Do you have any ideas?”  
She paused a moment, swirling the drink in her glass. “I don't exactly have much experience on this. Flowers? Chocolates?”  
“That's just a bit cliché.”  
“Oh yes, Messerre writer.” She smirked. “Everything is cliché to you. But yeah, I don't really have much of an idea. You don't really have time for a weekend away, do you?”  
“Definitely not at the moment.”  
“Evening off to go see a film or something? Date night?”  
“I really don't have the time at the moment, I should be working right now. I'm going to have to get up about six tomorrow to get this finished.”  
“Oh man. Don't overwork yourself though.”  
“I'll be fine. It'll all be worth it when the wedding rolls around...” His teeth grit together involuntarily. “...whenever that'll be.”  
“And it'll be the best damned wedding ever.”  
His mouth turned up into a smile as he dug into the plate of garlic bread, “That it will.”

“Any new story ideas then?”  
“None at the moment, I've been so busy with work that I haven't even looked at my story writing stuff.”  
“Brainstorm with me, then. What have you got?”  
He “I think I told you my last idea, the eh, one with the dungeon?”  
“Yeah! So how are they going to get out of it?”  
“I don't know...”  
“What about... a mabari comes to the rescue?”  
“What is it with you and mabari?”  
“They're cool, okay? Anyway, a stray mabari could come up to what's-her-face and get some belly rubs. I think your story needs more belly rubs, anyway.”  
A laugh tore free from him. “Does it now? Well, I guess I could give her a mabari, one for protecting her family.”  
“You said you were thinking of making them Fereldan anyway.”  
“True.”  
“Then a mabari makes complete sense!”  
“I'll think about it.”  
“It's a good ideaaa.” She smirked, taking a card. “But aah, what is this?” She held the card aloft. “The Angel of Death. Show me your cards!” He threw down his hand and Hawke noised over at what he had, her face lighting up. “Pretty good, but I'm sorry to be a bearer of bad news.” She threw down her hand dramatically. “I win!”  
“Congrats, that's rare.”  
“Hey! I'll have you know I've actually improved.”  
“I'm only teasing.” He took a nosy at his phone. Shit, he'd already been here for hours? It certainly didn't feel like it. “I'm going to have to head back in a minute.”  
“Already? Can't I tempt you to stay a little longer?”  
“No, I need an early night to get that work done.” He got ready to go, but she didn't seem so eager to leave. “What were you doing here, anyway?”  
“Ugh, avoiding the twins, I guess. I was also hoping I'd see you, but mostly avoiding the twins.”  
“Why?”  
“Why d'ya think?” She grumbled. “Well anyway, I hope you manage to get that work done and I hope you manage to patch things over with Bianca. If you need any more help, let me know.”  
“Will do. Thanks, Hawke.”  
“Don't mention it. Seriously, don't. I don't want to harm my reputation as a selfish bitch.” She laughed a little too fakely and reached for her drink. “You get going though. I'll see you later.”  
“See you.”

Why was Hawke always so good at making him feel better? Maker, what did he even do without her? When he unlocked the door and stepped back into his flat, he was greeted by silence, darkness and an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Carefully, he slid out his shoes and jacket and tiptoed into the bedroom, hoping he wouldn't wake Bianca. He undressed silently in the darkness, placing his clothes carefully on top of his drawers.

“You're back late.” Bianca grumbled softly, sniffing at the air. “And you've been drinking.”  
“We were at the Hanged Man.”  
“Of course.” She mumbled, rolling onto her slide to face him with a sigh.  
“Listen, I'm really sorry, I really shouldn't have taken that job. Once some of the freelance stuff has finished, I'll have more spare time and then we can spend it together.”  
“I'm sure you've said pretty much those exact words to me before, Varric.”  
“I mean it, though.”  
“Well, I'll just have to believe it when I see it, won't I?”

He slid in beside her, draping an arm over her waist, but she didn't even react to it, her face blank and lukewarm.

“If...” She muttered, brown eyes narrowing into his in the darkness, “...something ever happened, you'd tell me, right?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“If you...” A breath hissed out through her teeth and she shook her head, rolling over to face the wall. “Never mind. Let's just get some sleep.”  
“Oh, okay. Goodnight.” He planted a soft kiss to her shoulder, but she just shuffled her pillow into a more comfortable position. Once it was up to standards, she let out a deep sigh of Maker-knows-what.  
“Night.” She grumbled.

And so, the room fell into an uneasy silence. This wasn't how it used to be, how they used to fall asleep, tangled together, his face lost in the curve of her neck, smelling perfume and _her_. Arms around each other until the heat under the covers would get too much and they'd untangle from each other, but still touching feet, a reassurance that the other was there. Now there was none of that... And there hadn't been for a long time. He hadn't even _noticed._

What changed?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I don't know about you, but it's been a busy month for me! My job finished (it was planned, don't worry), the Fringe festival descended on Edinburgh, I've just had my birthday celebrations and I'm off to Paris later this week AAAAAAAA
> 
> I was so happy to be able to show the dynamic between Varric and Bianca. There's so much going on beneath the surface with these two and I can't wait to write some more of them.
> 
> And thank you all so much for all the kudoses, comments, views (nearly 400 wtf?), bookmarks, all of it. It means so much to me!


	7. Chapter 7

Lunch break, _finally_ , and today Hawke actually had something she could look forward to; leftover quiche from Varric's last night. She wasn't usually one for Orlesian food, but Varric's cooking was on a whole other level. Speaking of, she had the evening free so she may as well let Varric know she'd be coming over. Before even beginning to dig into her lunch, she picked up her phone and clicked the icon of him pulling an ugly face. What a dork.

He answered within seconds, of course. “How _did_ I know you'd be phoning me right around now?”  
“You're psychic?”  
The chuckle she got in response certainly didn't make the quiche flip in her stomach. “If you want to believe that, sure. But anyway, how's your day been?”  
“Ugh, the usual. But you know what?”  
“What?”  
“They've changed my shifts, _yet_ again! They told me I'd have regular shifts by now, but they've changed them, without even asking me!”  
“Well that's shit. Can't you complain?”  
“I have. Many times, but Meredith doesn't care. I swear she's got something against me.”  
“It seems like it.”

She let out an exasperated sigh and took another bite of her quiche.  
“So shall I assume you're coming over tonight?” He asked.  
“Mhm.” She grinned, mouth full.  
“Great! And I was wondering, have you ever watched Dragon Frontier?”  
“I've heard of it, but I didn't want to watch it until I'd actually heard good things about it. Is it good?”  
“I watched the first few episodes last night, but I wanted to watch it with you.” Varric confessed, “It was good, though. I think you'll really like it.”  
“Is it about dragons, by any chance?”  
“I don't want to give too much away, but yes, there's an assload of dragons in it.”  
“Fuck yeah! What time can I come over, the usual?”  
“Sure! I'll power through this article and make something nice for dinner.”  
“I'm in a pasta kind of mood. Could you make that tomato sausage one again?”  
“At your service, messere.”  
Oh, what a dorky dork. “Yes well, I should really head off. Druffalo face is giving me the evils, _again_.”  
“See you later.”  
“Byyeeee.”

And she disconnected with a grin on her face. Great, it seemed that Druffalo face had something to say about that too.

“Might I ask what was so important that you had your phone out in the office?”  
“Hello Bran.” She drawled.  
“Need I remind you of the Data Protection Laws that we must uphold?”  
“I'm perfectly familiar with them, thank you very much.”  
“Then you should know that phones are not permitted on the office floor. If you need to take a call, you must go to the lobby or outside.”  
“It was just a quick call.”  
“Quick call or no, the rules can't be broken just because you can't wait a few hours to speak to your latest dalliance.”  
“ _Excuse_ me!? _Latest_ dalliance? For one thing, this is not a 'dalliance', he's just my friend, and secondly, why the ff-” Shit, no bad language, you don't want in trouble for that _again._ _“-_ why should you care how often I have dalliances?”  
“If they have negative effects on the quality of your work then I have the right to comment on them.”  
“Oh, go away, Bran. I bet _you're_ the reason my shifts keep getting changed.”  
His sly smile faltered for a split second.  
“You know I can go to HR about that. This is a bullying-free workplace.”  
“It's hardly bullying when all I'm doing is reminding you about not having your phone out on the work floor.”  
“And now I've v been reminded of that.” She gave the most saccharine smile her face would allow. “Thank you, Bran.”  
His eyebrow twitched and his lips stretched into a thin line. “You're welcome.” And with that, he stormed off.

Success!

Six o'clock just couldn't come soon enough. When it finally did, she grabbed her things and shot out the office before anyone could try to engage in dishwater conversation with her. The bus was probably going to be packed, as usual, so she opted to walk there. Or jog, actually. Not that she was _over_ -eager to see him or anything. She reached his door in record time and pushed it open. The smell of the pasta hit her immediately, her mouth half way to a waterfall.

“I'm here!” She grinned, dumping her jacket and bag and flinging herself onto the sofa.  
Varric's head popped around the doorframe, “Good timing.”   
“I'm ready for some dragons,” She announced, kicking her shoes off and grabbing the remote, “and some Antivan sausage.”  
“What?” Varric coughed.  
“The pasta, Varric.” She laughed. “What were you thinking of?”  
“Never mind. I blame Rivaini.”  
“Don't we all.” She laughed, clicking on the first episode of the show.  
“Hey give me a minute, Hawke! It's pretty much ready.”  
“Fiiiine.” She drawled, pausing it and flicking through her phone.

Varric came through a few minutes later, a bowl in each hand, handing one to Hawke and sitting down beside her. “Okay, _now_ you can start it.”  
“Right-o.”

The theme song ended, throwing them straight into a fierce battle between a mage and a high dragon. Shit, this show really wasn't fucking around! The mage dodged fireballs and the dragon dodged a flurry of ice, shot from the mage's own hands. How fucking badass!

When the dragon finally fell, the mage sheathed his staff and went to examine the dragon.

“Fereldan Frostback.” He muttered, taking notes in a little notebook kept in his robe.  
“Wait, that's a tape bound book!” Varric cried, “They didn't exist until at least a hundred years after that.”  
“Wait,” She wondered, “When is this set?”  
“The Dragon Age.”  
“Ooooh, right! I really should have seen that coming. I don't think this is going to be the most accurate show anyway. The pattern on that dragon's wings are actually of an Abyssal High Dragon. But then again, they wouldn't be the first to get the two confused.”  
“You learn something new every day.”  
“That you do.”

The pasta was soon finished and shoved out of the way, which was good because if she'd been eating it during the next dragon fight, it probably would have gone everywhere.

“For the love of The Maker, use an ice attack! You were using it minutes ago! It's a _fire_ dragon, don't- Fuck, stop using fire balls!”  
Varric snorted beside her, covering his face with his hand.  
“What?”  
“Just you. I keep forgetting you basically have a degree in dragons.”  
“Draconology. I wanted to be a dragon archaeologist when I was younger but I never had the grades for it.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah and they didn't teach it at any of the universities in Fereldan. I'd have to go to Orleis to study and I sure as hell wouldn't be doing that.”  
“How did I not know this?”  
She shrugged. “I don't exactly go around admitting that I failed almost all of my subjects in high school.”  
“Fair enough.”

It was only in the second episode that a plot seemed to emerge. It turned out that the mage guy was given the job of trying to train the dragons not to kill people and if they couldn't be trained then they'd have to be killed. A little sad, but kinda necessary. Still, was the life of a few hundred people _really_ more important than a dragon or two?

Not long after that, he got a companion – a CGI dragonling so badly animated that it seemed more like a mabari than a dragonling. Although it did give it a goofy kind of charm. But seriously, what was the budget for this show? Three bits or something?

“Hawke?”  
“Mhm?” She mumbled, her eyes still glued to the TV.  
“It's half one.”  
Wait, what? She turned to look at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “As in, in the morning??”  
“Yeah.”

She looked at the TV, the darkened sky outside, her phone and then at him once more.  
“Fuck, I need to get home then” She laughed weakly, stretching out her legs with a strangled groan.  
“You know that offer from the other day of staying over is still there.”  
“No, it's fine. Anyway, I can't exactly rock up to work in the same outfit two days in a row. My boss would have a fit.”  
“Want a lift then?”  
“Sure.” She smirked, already throwing on her jacket and shoes. “Oh and can we stop by Burgers 'n' Buns? I'm really in the mood for chips.”  
“You mean fries?”  
“Not this again.” She grumbled, trying to keep the smirk from her face. “A chunky potato fry is a chip!”  
“A chip is what _you_ call a crisp. You're not in Fereldan any longer.”  
She threw a cushion at him, bouncing off his head and crashing into his desk.  
“Hey! What did my desk ever do to you?” He cried with mock alarm, lobbing the cushion back at her, which she dodged with great pride and threw another back at him, running past him into the hallway before he could retaliate, a stupid grin stretching over her face.

The roads were empty for once, so driving to the drive-through on the outskirts of town only took about fifteen minutes. Of course, Hawke got to choose the music, this time it was Kirkwall Radio 3. A warm breeze flew in the window as Varric drove, power ballads leaking into the empty street as they approached the drive through.

“What are you wanting?” He asked, looking at the menu.  
“Just cheeseburger meal.” She dug into her purse, but he waved a hand to stop her.  
“I'll get it.”  
“I have the money-”  
“Save it then.”  
“Don't be an arse, you never let me pay for things!” She rolled up a one silver note, dropped it into the cleavage of his shirt and gave him a pat and a wink for good measure. “Keep the change.”

He rolled his eyes but let it pass. The person on the other end of the speaker sounded half dead, but who could blame them. She doubted they were getting paid enough for that shit. They certainly didn't look much more alive when they drove up to the window, taking the money and basically lobbing the food into the car.

She'd already finished her chips before he'd even parked up and moved onto her burger instead, kicking her shoes off and propping her feet up on the dashboard, swaying in time with the power ballad on the radio.

“Want some of my burger?” She offered.  
“No thanks.”

This was nice; the stillness of the night, the food, the music, the company. She took a look at Varric, sipping away at his coffee. Now that she thought about it, they hadn't actually done anything yet tonight. Terrible.

“You know,” She cooed in that distinctive way, “There isn't anyone around.”  
“And?”  
“We haven't done anything tonight... yet.” A hand made its way to his leg, “I _was_ planning to distract you from Dragon Frontier but I got too distracted myself.” She gripped his thigh ever so slightly, “No distractions here, though.”  
“Someone could see.”  
“Who? It's a ghost town here, Varric. Plus, you have tinted windows in the back.” She fluttered her eyelashes, “So...”

She leaned towards his face, enshrouded in the soft orange lights of the dashboard. His eyes bore into her as she licked her lips, brought a finger to his chin and closed in for a kiss. He tasted of coffee, which usually she found disgusting, but it actually wasn't too bad this time. Her hand tracing circles in his jeans, scratching at the fabric, closer and closer to his crotch.

“It's kinda hot though.” She whispered into his ear, “You know, fucking in a car.” She punctuated her point with a nip to his neck. “Don't you think?”  
He swallowed deeply and tried to reply, but it seemed to come out as more of a croaky question. “Yes? But um, let's ah, at least move to the back seats though.”  
“Sure.” She sighed, withdrawing and crawling through the space between the front seats and plopping herself onto one of the seats. Varric didn't follow her through, instead, he actually used the door for what it's there for and slid in beside her that way. He had a look around him as he did so, but she was right; the place really was a ghost town. _And_ they were parked right in the corner. Maybe it would have been suspicious if anyone was actually there, but it was just them.

The moment the car door closed, she grabbed for him in the dim light and shoved him on the seat, climbing on top and straddling him. Her hands reached under her t-shirt to remove her bra, her eyes locking with his as she threw it against a window with a soft thump. His hands soon replaced hers', sliding over the smooth skin of her stomach, up to her breasts and she melted against him.

“Oh, fuck...” She moaned, “I can't... I need- ah, fuck!!” She shivered as he undid her fly and slid a hand inside her trousers.  
“I think we need to get rid of these.” He chuckled into her breasts.  
“Definitely...” She wheezed, heaving herself off him.

She slid onto the seat beside him and let him slide her trousers off as he positioned himself between her legs. _Fuck._ Her fingers clenched into his shoulder as breathy moans escaped, her legs trembling with want and anticipation. The closer he got to the inside of her leg, the more Hawke grabbed at his hair, her shaking legs squeezing his head, pushing him towards her slit.

“Patience.” He chuckled, eliciting a choked groan from her. Maybe she could ask... he wouldn't judge, would he?  
“Could you em...” She took a few slow, deep breaths, doing her best to get her jumbled mind together, but he raised an eyebrow and any coherency was lost.  
“What do you want?”  
“Maybe... talk some more?”  
His other eyebrow joined the first, half way up his forehead, “You like the sound of my voice?”  
She swallowed, looking away from him, but her head nodded as quickly as it could. “Yeah.”  
“Well then, you know what?” He growled into her thigh, her grip on his hair strengthening still. “You know what I'm going to do?” Her toes quivered as she whimpered an inaudible response, “I'm going to fuck you so hard that you'll see stars.”

Her eyes widened, a shaky grin on her face.

“And _you_..” He swallowed, using the time to think of something to end the sentence with, “You're going to fuck me so hard that I can't help but cum.” He slid a finger inside her folds, “Fuck, you're so wet already.”

She pushed back against him, willing him deeper, making noises that he didn't even know she could make.

“More.” She breathed.  
“What's the magic word?”  
“Huuh...?”  
“I'm not doing anything until you say please.”  
“Please. Please, please.” She tried to move faster against his finger, “Varric, please!”  
“Just teasing you.” He chuckled, slipping in another finger, but keeping the pace maddeningly slow.  
“Uuuuugh...” She whimpered. “Faster...”  
“Patience, Hawke.”  
“...please...” She breathed, trying to move against him. He shuffled a little to redistribute the weight and held her down with his free hand. “Fuck Varric, please, please, please...” But he only chuckled in response. “It's not fair!” She moaned.

Instead, Varric placed his mouth over her clit, swirling his tongue as Hawke shivered against him. Slowly, slowly, he sped up the pace. Her breathing getting heavier with every thrust.

“Oh holy-” She groaned, “Fuuuuuuaaaaack.”  
“Are you close?” He grumbled into her.  
“Shit, I am now.” She breathed, throwing her head back.

He thrust faster and faster still, the pressure so _fucking_ good, no longer able to stop the moans coming out of her mouth.

“Cum for me Hawke,” he panted. “I want to feel you cum.”

And that was all she could take. She shattered against him, whining as she bucked desperately, clenching around his finger as his tongue swirled around her clit, both too much and not enough stimulation at once. His finger sped up for a moment or two as waves of euphoria washed over her. Heat, so much heat as electricity shot through her body, all the way to her toes. Finally, he relented and she melted into the seat, struggling to catch her breath as her whole body tingled. A few seconds later, the grip on his hair relented and her arms flopped to her side.

“Holy shit...” She uttered, her voice light with the beginnings of laughter as she dragged a shaky hand down her face.  
“Was that good?”  
“What do _you_ think?” She grinned, watching him with lidded eyes.  
“Who knew you liked my voice so much.”  
“Shut up.” She grumbled, glad for the darkness or he'd see how red her face was.  
“You don't _really_ want me to shut up, do you?” He smirked and planted a kiss on her neck.

A loud beep and low hum broke the moment as jolted away, scrabbling for the little glow of light on the front seat. His phone lit up his face

“Oh, it's Sunshine.”  
“Don't answer it! Y-you're asleep!”  
“What?”  
“I mean, you would be if I didn't come over, right?”  
“True. But I guess you better get home if she's worried enough to call me.”  
“She'll be fine. Anyway, don't you want me to return the favour?”  
“That can happen another night.” A yawn tore its way out of him. “Swings and roundabouts.” He smiled, gathering up her clothes.  
“Well, at least I know what you'll be doing when you get home.”

He didn't reply, but the saucy grin on his face told her all she needed to know.

  
  


By the time she stumbled in the front door, she felt well and truly shattered. Her hand hovered over the hallway light, but should she turn it on? Maybe not, it might wake up the twins.

“What the actual fuck, Marian!?” A voice came from in front of her.

The light clicked on and Bethany stood at the other side of the hall, arms folded, her face like a volcano ready to erupt. It was at times like these that she really reminded Hawke of her mother. Great, just what she needed to ruin the afterglow.

“Where the hell have you been?”  
“Out?”  
“Didn't you get my texts?”  
“I haven't been near my phone.”  
“Oh, I guess you've been too busy to even reassure your own little sister that you're okay!”  
“Why are you so worried?”  
“It's quarter to three in the morning and you didn't even tell me you were going out tonight, _again._ What's it been, four days in a row? Five? Are you not running out of people to sleep with yet?”  
“Well excuse _me_ for wanting to have a good time.”  
“Do you not know how dangerous a situation you're putting yourself in? Especially at this time of night? These people could be murderers!”  
“Beth, calm down. I'm fine!”  
“You don't even _care_ that I've been up for hours worrying about you!” Tears streamed down Bethany's cheeks, her shoulders shaking in time with her sobs. Shit, now she'd really stepped in it. “Y-you've nearly died before because of your own stupidity.”  
“But I was fine! And I'm fine now too. I can take care of myself, you know!”  
Anger settled over her features as she swiped the tears away. “Well that's the last time I try to look out for you! Go get yourself killed, see if I care!” And with that, the door slammed behind her.  
“Shut the _FUCK_ up, you two!” Carver shouted from his bedroom, something hard slamming against the door.

Aah, sibling love. There really was nothing like it. She had to leg it to her bedroom in case anyone could see the tears streaming down her own cheeks. Stupid, stupid tears, but there you go.

The first thing she did was scrabble for her cigarettes. She paused for a second to consider whether it was worth turning it into a joint, but naah, she couldn't be arsed with that. Smoking was forbidden in the flat, but no-one would know if she did it out the wide open window. She turned off her big light and instead reached for her little dragon lamp, filling the room with a dim, red haze. Some nights, the shadows on her wall looked familiar and not threatening in the least. But tonight wasn't one of those nights.

So she turned to the window and hitched her leg up and over, parking her butt on the window sill, one leg in and one leg out. Sure, she could loose her balance, fall out and die, but at least she'd die the way she lived; a failure. She reached for her lighter and started up the cigarette, taking a long draw in, exhaling slowly. Fuck, yeah. She really needed that. Her arm hung loosely out the window, watching the glow of the cigarette pinched between frozen fingers. Below her the streets were deserted, save for a few strangers scuttling by like bugs. The quiet stillness of the world below her was almost soothing, looking into lit up windows in apartments far away and seeing the tiny silhouettes of strangers. Strange how she could live in the world, function in it and everything and yet feel so disconnected. All she really did nowadays was eat, sleep, work and visit Varric. But before that it wasn't much different, was it?

Was this _really_ what her life had come to? Knowing full well that she was staying out late on _purpose,_ to avoid her own sister. Fuck, this place was getting far too claustrophobic for her liking. Maybe it was time to live separately from her siblings so no-one would end up murdered. In fact, did she really care much for this city any more? The twins had a better life now, moving had served it's purpose long ago. She could pack up and live anywhere, far away from the people that make her feel like a disappointment. What was really keeping her there?

No, no. She didn't really want to think that. She already knew why.

Fuck.

  
  


\- - - - - - - -

  
  


A cuppa in hand, headphones flowing music into her ears and the latest issue of Draconology Monthly on her lap. Aah, that was the life. She'd had to forfeit two dinners to afford the magazine, but it was definitely worth it.

“Sis?” Bethany's voice came from through the door, tearing her from an especially interesting article on wing aerodynamics. “Can I speak to you?”  
“Sure, come in!”  
She slunk in, a large envelope in her trembling hand. “I-I have the results from college...”  
“Oh, how exciting!” Hawke cheered, clapping her hands. “What does it say?”  
“I haven't opened it yet, I can't...”  
“Do you want me to do it?”  
She gingerly sat down beside Hawke and handed her the envelope. “If you could.”  
“Of course.” She tore through the paper, but Bethany's hand on her arm stilled her.  
“What if... what if I didn't pass classical Tevene? I don't think I did, I didn't study for it enough and-”  
“Beth, calm down. If you didn't pass then that's okay. There's more than one way to get into teachers college.”  
“But I need at least a B in every subject or I can't get my conditional offer!”  
“Well, let's just cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?” She nodded feebly and Hawke opened the rest of the envelope, freeing the paper inside.  
“W-what does it say?” She whispered.  
“A's in everything except classical Tevene.”  
“And what-”  
“You got a B.”  
She cried, engulfing her in a hug. “Oh thank the Maker! I need... I need to phone Mum!” And with that, she quickly scrabbled out the room.

Yes, she could finally say it was worth it. Everything, all of this, was worth it. She may as well share the good news.

 _Beth passed her exams!_ She typed  
 _Tell her congrats from me!_ Varric replied. _If she's ever in the Hanged Man then I'll buy her a drink._  
You'll do that anyway. And buy her food too.  
Damn, you got me!  
How've you been anyway?  
Good, yeah. I think work is about to slow down, but for once that's going to be a good thing. What about you?  
Same as usual. How's things with Bianca?  
Getting better. I think spending more time together has been helping.  
Good good :) When are you next free to hang out?  
Not sure. Probably next week.  
Okay dokey.  
In fact, Bianca has been saying that she wants to meet you. How would you fancy coming over for dinner some time soon?  
That would be awesome, yeah! It'll be nice to meet her properly.   
I should really get back to it though. Speak later :)  
Bye!

Shit, shit, shit. Meeting Bianca? Actually _meeting_ her? She'd be perfectly happy sticking to awkward greetings every now and then when she came in for him or chummed him home after the Hanged Man... but if she wanted to meet her then _sure_. It would be an experience, at least.

Her phone buzzed beside her. Oh, great. Mother. No, she still wasn't ready for that yet. Decline. She had much more important things to think about. Like what the fuck would she wear??

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dorksssss!! My absolute DORKSSS!! Ughh I love them so muchhhh  
> The next chapter is going to have a lot of drama and feelings in it, I hope you're ready... in at least a week from now. The chapter is already over 6,000 words and it's not even finished yet, oh maaaan!  
> Once again, thank you so much for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the longest and - in my opinion- best chapters that I've ever written. Enjoy"

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Anders... Happy birthday to you!”  
“Hip hip!” Varric cried.  
“Hooray!” The group replied.

Anders leaned forwards and eventually managed to blow out the candles on his third try. Conversation was flowing, jokes were shared and most importantly of all, Anders had a smile on his face. And with how hard that guy'd been working recently, he deserved to have a night all about _him_ for once. And the look on his face when he saw his cat-shaped birthday cake was priceless. The weeks of planning had certainly paid off; the surprise birthday party was a success.

“Amazing job on the cake! ” Hawke grinned through the cake in her mouth. “I can see why you didn't want me helping with it.”  
“No offence, but I got the feeling you'd try to turn it into a mabari.”  
“None taken. Although, a mabari cake _would_ be a hell of a lot cooler.”  
“I'll bear that in mind for your next birthday.”  
“Oh, please do!” She took note of his empty glass, “Shall I get us another drink?”  
“I'll get it.”  
“Uh, no! We agreed _I'd_ get the next one.”  
“Shit.” He grumbled.  
“The usual then?”  
“Sure.”  
“See you in a sec.” And with that she slid into the crowds, disappearing out of sight. He may as well gather up the remaining Wicked Grace cards lying discarded on the table before any of them could get lost. Sure, he could easily get a new set, but this set was _special_.

“Varric.” A voice came from beside him.  
“Broody.”  
 _Forty-two, forty-three..._  
“I was wondering if you could give me a bit of advice on something.”  
 _Forty four..._  
“Ask away.”  
The elf cast his eyes around him, as if looking for something. “If I was to buy Anders a drink for his birthday... what do you think he'd like?”  
“Blondie?” Shit, what number did he reach? Oh, never mind. He reached for the cocktail menu, taking his time to scan through the options. He'd never actually ordered a cocktail from here had he? “Well, he certainly has a sweet tooth.” Something sweet... something sweet... “What about this one? Candyfloss?”  
“I think he'd like that, yes.” Broody's lip turned up into a bashful smile as he rose from the table. “Thank you, Varric.”  
“No problem. Oh, and Broody?” The elf looked back at him expectantly so he gave him his most charming smile. “Go for it.”  
He startled for a moment, his eyes blinking, “I'm not _going_ for anything, I'm simply buying him a drink.”  
“If you insist.” He sighed, already turning back to his cards.

Two cards were missing, though. One was thankfully located under the table, the other was a lot more illusive. Checking through his other cards, it was of course the Angel of Death; Rivaini had probably pocketed it by accident. He'd need to get that back off her, but as usual, once the cake had been cut and shared, she was nowhere to be seen, along with Hawke and going by the queue at the bar, he probably wasn't going to see her for a while. He cast his eyes across the room, lingering on the jukebox in the corner, an idea forming in his head. Normally he wouldn't be one for picking a song, but this had been running around his head for weeks now and it wouldn't run the risk of getting a drink thrown at him.

The jukebox was comprised of a large tablet computer stuck onto a box with a slot for the money. Digging into his pocket, he found a silver and popped it in, the screen immediately bursting into life with song suggestions, none of which he actually wanted. How did this thing actually work? Ah, a search engine, great! He found the song, and added it to the long, long list of the next songs to play.

“So I was wondering if you had an extra heart.” A familiar voice flirted. “Mine has just been stolen.”  
“Your part?” Merrill replied. “Part of what? Like in a play? Oh wait, no! This is something dirty, isn't it?”  
“N-no, my heart.” Zevran stammered. “You have stolen it, my enchanting friend.”  
“I haven't stolen your tart! I haven't seen any tarts, actually. All I've seen is the cake for Anders!”

A frustrated sigh tore its way out of Zevran and Varric had to stop himself laughing out loud. Poor guy wasn't going to get anything out of her. His eye was drawn to someone waving over at the other side of the room, unable to stop himself smiling when he realised it was Hawke.

“Sorry I took a while,” She said as he approached, sliding his drink over to him. “The queue was ridiculous.”  
“No worries.”  
“Shall we maybe sit outside for a little bit?”  
“It's nice enough in here, why go outside?”  
She answered him with a cheeky grin, pulling out a joint from her phone case.  
“Ah,” He sighed, “ _that's_ why.”

Outside, the evening was anything but quiet but it was still a welcomed relief against the noise of the bar.  
“You know,” Hawke sighed, leaning against a wall. “I'm kinda sad it's not a Friday night.”  
“Why, you want to do karaoke?”  
“It's fun!” She grinned, twirling the blunt in her fingers and rummaging for her lighter. “I know, I'm terrible at it.”  
“I've heard a lot worse.”  
“Hah!” She laughed, flicking her lighter into life. “You're only saying that because I don't have a microphone in my hand.”  
“I actually like your singing.”  
“ _Really_?” She took a pensive draw before handing it over. “Well that's a surprise.”

He took a draw, the hot embers burning his tongue. Ugh, he'd forgotten how bad it tasted.  
“I em,” Hawke cleared her throat a little, “I actually want to thank you for my birthday party. I didn't realise how much you must have done for it, the cake, the food...” She raised her eyebrows, eyes lost in through. “...so much food. But anyway,” she blinked. “It's nice for someone to be bothered enough to celebrate your birthday.”  
He took a moment to let the words sink in. “I guess I just like letting people know how much I appreciate having them in my life.”  
“You dork.” She muttered, a soft grin on her face, her nose wrinkled under her fringe.  
“Well, if that makes me a dork, then I'll just have to be one.”  
“That's not what you're supposed to say to that!” She giggled through the hand on her face, struggling to get the words out. “You're too good for this world, you know that?”  
The bubbly feeling rose up inside him and he couldn't help but laugh back. “How high _are_ you?”  
“Not as high as you!” She cackled.

The pair collapsed into fits of giggles, attracting attention from the other smokers, but did he care? Naah. Okay, maybe that stuff was a little strong, he had to grip onto the wall to stop himself falling over. When they finally managed to recover from the giggles, her smile dissolved into an inexplicable sadness. “What would I do without you?”  
“I think the same thing about you.”  
She blew a raspberry, her eyes piercing into his as if she expected him to burst out laughing any minute now. “You'd be fine without me.”  
“If you truly believe that then you really don't know me at all.”

Maybe if he was sober then he wouldn't have worded it like that. Maybe if he was sober then he would have had an apology, an excuse, a wall ready to be put up, but her eyes bore into his, her face morphing from shock, to something unreadable, to lust, to something else, but she turned away from him before he could figure out what it was, her face unbelievably pink. He'd made her uncomfortable, hadn't he? Shit.

So he cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck. “I'm going to eh, nip to the toilet actually.”  
She nodded, still looking at her feet. “Oh yeah, sure.”

It took every ounce of brainpower to not to look too high, every movement carefully calculated as he stumbled his way to the bathroom. Once inside, he splashed his face with water and scraped his hair back into it's tie, doing his best to sober himself up a little. Well, that was a bit better at least.

Back through the rowdy crowds, the sound of Hawke laughing hit his ears the moment he pushed through the door to the smoking area. He was about to walk up to her and ask what was so funny when he realised she was talking to someone he didn't know, a gleam in her eye and a smirk on her lips that hit him straight in the gut.

“Those jeans fit you rather well.” The guy's eyes lingered on her ass, his eyebrows raising a touch.  
“You'd think so, but they're pretty uncomfortable. I'd rather just take them off.”  
“Well, I wouldn't mind doing the honours.” The guy's hand reached out, and Varric expected her to move away, stop him, something. But she didn't.  
She giggled, actually _giggled_ as the guy's hand slid over her ass.“I'd have to be much more drunk for that to happen and unfortunately, my drink is finished.”   
A smirk pulled at the guy's face. “What about that guy you were with earlier?”  
“Oh, don't worry about him. He's just my friend.”

Her friend. Just her _friend_. But that was all he was, wasn't it? Why did he expect her to say anything different? Why did he _want_ her to? She cast a glance through the door, noticing Varric, her smile fading in an instant.  
“I-I'll go get another one. Another drink.”

From behind her fringe, they locked eyes as she made her way towards him and straight inside to the bar. Now was his chance to speak to her at least. Oh, the jukebox was finally playing his song, he'd forgotten he'd put one on.

_And it burns, burns, burns  
The ring of fire  
The ring of fire_

“So...” Varric began, falling in line behind her in the drinks queue.  
“So?”  
“So, ehm. That guy...”  
“What about him?”  
“He likes you.”  
She quirked an eyebrow. “You think?”  
“I think he was pretty forward. Are you going to...”  
“Sleep with him? I don't know. Maybe?” She threw back the ice water left in her drink, shrugging her shoulders. “But there's something fun about flirting for the sake of flirting. I'd do it more often with you, but you didn't seem to like it.”  
“What? You did?”  
“Yeah, just after we started our little arrangement. Don't you remember Wicked Grace after my birthday when you were mega pissed at something?”  
“Sort of...” He remembered being confused, at least.  
“I tried to flirt with you then and you weren't okay with it.” She let out a cute little self deprecating laugh, clanking the remains of the ice in her glass. “I actually thought I'd made you angry!”  
“I wasn't angry at you. If I was you'd know about it.”  
“Right...”

Her eyes flickered around the room, finally settling on him, but they turned away when she realsied he was watching her. “Y-you know, I've been thinking about something... I guess you're good at this kind of stuff.”  
“Shoot away.”  
She chewed the inside of her mouth as if she was about to chicken out.“So in dragon wranglers-”  
“That again?” He joked.  
“Yes yes, this again.” She laughed half-heartedly. “You know that other mage guy?”  
“The one that was with Garrett?”  
“Finn, yeah.”  
“What about him?”  
She licked her lips. “How would you feel if he cheated on Garrett?”  
“I'd be pissed off!”  
“Right and would you ever want to be with someone like him?”  
“That's a silly question. Of course I wouldn't.”  
“Right.” She scratched the back of her head and swirled the scraps of ice cube in her drink.  
“What's this about? Was it that guy? Does he already have a partner?”  
“No, _nooo!_ I was just thinking... hypothetically.”  
“Well then, what about you?”

Instead of answering, she turned around to the bar to give her order, watching intently as the drinks were poured and money exchanged. Saved by the bar. A minute or so later, she turned back around, two drinks in hand.  
“Oh shit, I didn't even mean to order two!” She joked, sarcasm oozing from every vowel. “I guess I'll just have to give you this drink.”  
“Thank you.” He smiled. “But what about you? Would you want to be with someone like that?”  
“Do you _want_ me to take that drink off you?”  
His frown was maybe a little more pointed than it should have been.  
Her response was just a fragile; “Just joking!”, as she turned to walk back outside faster than he would have liked.  
“I guess I'll speak to you later. Be safe.”  
“Yeah, I know. Speak in a bit.” She pushed through the door and was back by the other guy's side before he could do anything about it, left high and dry as if she were the tide.

No, it was fine. He shouldn't be jealous of other people for having his friends' attention, he never had been before. He'd only ever been happy when things were looking good for Hawke, so why was it different this time? This guy didn't seem especially creepy or pushy. She didn't look uncomfortable with him. Hell, she looked more comfortable with that guy than she had moments ago with him. Through the door, he watched as she leaned into the guy's neck, a hand sliding up his chest. Maybe it was the talk of infidelity, but his mind was running a million miles ahead, thoughts clashing endlessly into each other. This wasn't just the alcohol, was it? No more of that, then.

Well, he may as well check up on the birthday boy and see how he was doing. He eventually managed to locate him back at the cake table, lazily shoving the remains of the cake in his face, somewhere between the land of the conscious and the unconscious. Fenris sat beside him, his eyes a little softer than usual, the constant frown not quite so pronounced for once. He knew that look well enough to know he was worried for the guy.

“Is he okay?” He asked.  
“Yeah,” Fenris sighed. “He's just _really_ drunk.”  
“Hello, Blondie!” He called to him as if he was a dog, his eyelids flickering at him. “Having fun?”  
“Vaaarric! Izz goood to see yooou!”  
“I'll take that as a yes. Shall I get you some water?”  
“I-” hiccup, “I'mm gooood!”  
“I didn't want to leave him to get water. Could you get some?” Fenris grumbled.  
“No problem.”  
His eyes darted around the room, locking eyes with Norah, motioning for two glasses of water which she rushed over not a minute later. “Drink up Blondie.” He sighed, passing it over.  
He took the glass in both hands, squinting at the liquid inside. “Whaaatsiss?”  
“A new cocktail.”  
He took a gulp. “Izz waaterr?” His face lit up. “Howwdd yoono waaluvett!?”  
“Call it a hunch.” He grumbled.  
“Varric.” Norah grumbled, still behind him, arms folded. “He's going to have to leave.”  
“I know, I just want to make sure he's going to make it back. We need to sober him up just a bit or he might not even get in a taxi. I don't want him going away in an ambulance, he needs a break from being in a hospital.”  
She nodded hesitantly. “Fair enough, but I don't want any mess.”  
“I'll do my best.” He handed her the last note he had in his pocket. “Sorry about it.”  
Isabela made an appearance then, a drink in each hand and a devilish smile on her face. “Hahaha, Maker's buttcheeks, he's gone with the wind! Take that, Anders!” His head moved towards the sound of his name, but his eyes didn't even bother opening any more.  
“There's a taxi coming in fifteen minutes, Fenny. That's the quickest I could get.” Isabela sighed.  
“Thanks.” Fenris replied. “I'll go to the the toilet now that he's not alone. I'll be a moment.”  
He wondered for a moment where Hawke was in the crowd. But no, he didn't want to think about that.

Sliding into the seat beside him, Isabela gave him a pat on the shoulder.“My condolences, Varric.”  
“What?”  
“I'm willing to bet that Hawke is going home with that guy. I think she likes him.”  
His eyebrows knotted above his eyes. “And why would I mind that?”  
“Yes, Varric. Why _would_ you mind that?”  
“I don't!”  
“Maybe if you tell yourself enough then you'll believe it.” She tilted her head. “I've seen the way you've been looking at her, you know.”  
“I-I'm not looking at her any differently, Isabela. I'm just worried that he's going to hurt her!”  
“And why _would_ you be worried about that?”  
“Because she's my best friend! Maferath's _ass_ , Isabela, stop this... whatever this is! This interrogation!”  
She shrugged. “Okay, okay. I'm just trying-”  
“Well you're not!” He snapped, slamming his fist on the table. Anders woke up from being braindead to look at him, two pairs of startled eyes meeting his. Shit, _okay_. He took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose.“Look, I'm sorry. It's been a long week and I really just wanted to have fun tonight.”  
“No, no,” Isabela sighed. “I shouldn't have pushed you. I'm sorry.”  
He held up his hands and shook his head. “Let's just enjoy tonight. Or as much as we can before we have to help him home.”  
”Don't you worry about that, Varric. I'll deal with that, you just focus on having fun.”  
“Thanks.”  
“Don't mention it.”  
“Oh, before I forget, do you have my Angel of Death card?”  
“I don't think so...” She rummaged about in her pockets, “wait-” Her hand slid down her top and reappeared a moment later with the card between her fingers. “My bad.”  
“Thanks.” He sighed, placing it safely back in the pack with the others.  
“Hello!” Merrill grinned, unexpectedly bouncing over.  
“I've been looking all over for you! Here's your half of the deal, Kitten.” Isabela smiled, sliding her over the second drink.  
“How did I do?”  
“That was a wonderful performance. Zev was very thoroughly confused.”  
“Wait,” Varric stopped them, putting two and two together. “Is this to do with you and Zevran earlier?”  
“You saw it?” Merrill grinned. “What did you think?”  
“I was also very confused by it so yeah, well done Daisy.”  
“Thank you!”  
Isabela jerked up from the table, scrabbling for her phone ringing in her bag. “Hello? Yeah. One minute.” She turned to the others, “Taxi's here.”

It turned out that the birthday boy had fallen fast asleep. “Up you get, Blondie.” He shook him, but he barely woke. Well, that's what twelve hour shifts do to you. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He hooked an arm around his waist and hauled him from the table. Broody appeared, running over and taking the other side as Merrill offered moral support.  
“Okay, so there's a table here and- AAH! Okay guys, be careful of the stairs! Excuse me, can we get past, please!”

By the time they finally made it to the taxi waiting outside, the driver looked like he was about to drive off without them. It took another group effort, to strap him into the taxi, but they managed somehow. With a grumble, Isabela sat in beside him.

“See you later, Blondie.” He waved into the open door.  
“Issaa whuuut?”  
“Let me know how he is, Rivaini.”  
“Sure.”  
“And thanks for doing this.”  
“Well it _is_ kinda my fault, I did kinda buy him a hell of a lot of drinks.” She tried to hide the smirk on her face, but it was no use. “It's no sweat anyway, you get home safe. And I'm sorry about earlier.”  
The air suddenly disappeared from his lungs. “Don't mention it.” He croaked. “Please, don't.”

And with that, the taxi door slid closed and he watched it pull away. He felt a soft tap on his shoulder, turning his head to see Merrill's bright grin.  
“I think that's enough excitement for me! I think I should be going.” She engulfed him in a sudden floral-smelling hug. “Thank you so much for inviting me!”  
“Thank you for coming.” He replied.  
“I'll be heading off too.” Fenris said, awkwardly shuffling his feet.  
“Did he like it?”  
“What, the drink?” His mouth twitched up into a smirk. “Yeah. He liked it. Thanks for the tip.”  
“Any time, Broody.”

He watched the two walk off together towards the bus stop until they turned the corner. It was just Hawke left now, wasn't it? He couldn't think of anything worse than 'partying' right now, not with the birthday boy gone, but maybe she'd be up for a card game or two, now that he had his whole pack together. His eyes scanned over the smoking area as he passed, but she wasn't there, so he kept on walking. A wall of heat engulfed him the moment he entered, probably because of the huge amount of people crammed into the small bar. Still, searching around him, he noticed a familiar scrap of hair at the other side of the room, beside the bar. He approached and sure enough, that was her, but the guy was there too. Right. His arm was draped around her, her fingers tracing at his neck as he whispered something Varric couldn't quite make out and then they were kissing.

Lips, tongues and hands pushed at each other, fingers entwining in their hair, their bodies pressed together like magnets. And yet he just couldn't look away, couldn't move, couldn't even close his eyes. Why why _why_? And this wasn't awkward, no tiptoes or crooked necks, no need to think about a height difference. His eyes burned, fists clenched, wishing he had a drink to hold on to.

When they finally relented, pulling back from each other with a satisfied breathlessness, her head turned to to the side, bashfully, until her eyes suddenly went wide, her face frozen in shock as she stared at Varric.

She'd seen him.

All he could do was shake himself out of it, turn on his heel and just get out of there. He needed air. He needed to sit down. He needed to _think._ But he didn't want to. He couldn't be. Isabela was wrong, of course she was. He stormed straight out of there, crashing through the doors, thundering straight through the smoking area and across the street, sitting down on the nearby steps, arms crossed as tight as they could go. Isabela obviously had no idea what she was saying, she couldn't possibly _really_ think that what she was implying...

No, he didn't need to think about that. Why was he even still here, sitting around as if he was waiting for something to happen? And he certainly didn't need to be hanging around when Hawke wouldn't even be coming home with him. With a groan, he got back up and started the walk back to his place. Thank fuck he didn't have to walk far because he was one twig away from snapping.

His door slammed behind him and he shuffled out of his jacket and shoes, flicked on the lights on his way to the sofa. It's not like he expected to see her there, but this place always felt so much more empty when she wasn't there with with him. He slid onto the sofa and put on some crappy paid for presentation to drown the thoughts haunting him, but that was easier said than done. Isabela was wrong, though. She _had_ to be.

But what if she was right?

He should have known from the start she'd go home with him. And that was fine. It was really okay. She was her own person and if she wanted to sleep with that guy then... Maker's breath, she was going to have _sex_ with the guy, wasn't she? He was going to touch her like he had, his hands running over her soft skin, lips trailing from her mouth, down her body, pausing to see the glow of her smile... But would this guy really appreciate her? Would he care for her scars, for her feelings? Would he _love_ her?

Fuck, there it was. He said it, or thought it, at least. Well _shit,_ maybe it wasn't _love_ yet, but whatever this was, it couldn't be far off. And now he was having this revelation while she was probably half way up the street with him, no worries about spending another night alone. Having company, even if just for a night. Not having to wrangle against the loneliness seeping in. That same loneliness he fought so hard to overcome after B-

His phone buzzed in his pocket, tearing him from his thoughts. That was probably a good thing, considering where his mind was going.

 _You in?_ The message read. Wait, it was from Hawke? Was she okay?  
 _What's up?_ He typed back, the 'seen' icon appearing immediately.

His buzzer went off and he sprang to answer it, not even sure why he was running.

“Surprise!” Hawke's voice crackled through the intercom.  
“What's happened?”  
“I just wanted to see you.” There was an awkward moment, a pause and a few shallow breaths. “So... are you going to let me in?”  
“Oh right. Sure.” And he pressed the button to let her in. Thunderous footsteps come from the hallway, louder and louder with every step, so he opened the door for her. She appeared at the top of the landing, a hand running through her mop of hair, struggling against deep breaths of exhaustion.

“Hi.” She mumbled, not quite pulling off her cheeky smile as she slid past him into the house.  
“Hey. This is a bit unexpected.”  
“Yeah, that's why I said surprise!” She smirked, absent mindedly licking her lips and scraping a hair behind her ear.  
“What happened to that... guy?”  
“Oh, him? He's off to Chainz. I didn't really want to go with him. I eh, prefer the company here, anyway. I hope you don't mind.”  
The storm inside lifted a little, a weight off his chest. “No, not at all.” His brain hadn't quite caught up, but that meant his heart was already leaping to conclusions.  
She cleared her throat, staring blankly at the informercial on the TV for some sort of cooking device. “And I'm sorry you saw... erm.”  
“You and the guy?” Her awkward nod was enough. “No, no it's fine. I-I didn't mean to be rude or anything.”

She sat rigidly on the sofa, toying with her hands in her lap, still with her jacket and shoes on. She wasn't about to leave, was she?  
“Can I get you anything?”  
“Uh, do you have any cider left?”  
“A tonne.” He came back through with a bottle for her and sat down beside her.  
“Do you want some?”  
“Naah, I'm not a fan of cider.”  
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, barely visible against the dark of her fringe. “Why do you always have it in your house then?”  
“Well, _you_ like it.”

She didn't look at him, instead she gazed sadly at the bottle in front of her.  
“What is it?” He prodded.  
“N-nothing! Just thinking.”  
“You've been doing a lot of thinking recently by the sounds of it.”  
“Yeah, but...” Her eyes glanced up towards him and lingered on his chest, her hand soon following. “I'm tired of thinking about things.” Her hand ran up to his neck and suddenly he couldn't breathe. “Shall we maybe...” She tilted her head towards the bedroom, letting the silence do the talking.

They rose from the couch quickly, neither of them willing to break the silence as they stumbled through, hands entwined as he slid her jacket off to speckle soft kisses up her arm. She turned back to him, her eyes wide in the dim light of his room, an arm winding around his neck to kiss him. She was soft though, relenting and mild, slow and passionate, as if they'd never kissed before, as if she was trying to commit the kiss to memory... but that was probably just him projecting.

He pushed back against her until her legs hit the edge of the bed and she fell with a giggle, pulling him back in again. For once, her hands didn't wander from his hair, except to his face. Her nails scraped across his scalp so deliciously, caressing him with her fingers. But still, she didn't grab, didn't grapple like she usually would. He humoured himself for a moment that it was almost like she was asking permission. It was strange for someone who seemed to hate not getting what she wanted more than most. It was as if she was showing him her smooth edges, the ones she hid from the world in favour of rough edges and stupid jokes to hide how she really felt, _who_ she really was.

He had to stop for breath, though, pulling back as she stared at him, wide-eyed and silent until another look settled over her features, but the yellow light filtering in from the street it was still far too dark for him to know what was going on in her head.

“Hawke?” He whispered to the quiet of the room, unsure of what had possessed him to utter her name.  
“Varric?” She whispered back, a tentative hand reaching for his face.

Once again, she pulled him until their lips meet, gentle hands fumbling at the buttons of his shirt, taking their time, savouring the the taste of his mouth. He retaliated by pulling her t-shirt up, over her head and wrapping his arms around her to undo her bra, but he didn't want to let go, a hand caressing her neck as soft moans escaped to the air. He pushed against her, lying her down on her back and crawling on top, the kiss only ending when he reached to pull off her jeans and throw off the remains of his shirt, her eyes following him in the darkness of the room.

When they kissed this time there was more fervour, his hand stroking the soft skin on the inside of her leg, fingers tickled by the stubble as he reached higher still, up to her lips as soft gasps escaping. Slowly, he pushed a hesitant finger in.  
“...fffffuck...” She breathed into his mouth, back arching against him.

He couldn't help but grin as she thrust against his hand, her head falling into the crevice of his neck, slow, breathy whines tickling his ear like the softest breeze. Feeling how wet she was already, he pushed in a second and a third, laving her with soft kisses.  
“Holy shiiitt...” She uttered between groans.  
“Would you mind if I had a taste?”  
“Oh ffffuck, pleeease...” She rasped.

But before anything else, he had to free his dick from the constraints of his trousers. He shuffled out of them and his underwear and knelt between her legs, savouring the feeling of her skin against his mouth, the warmth, the taste, the smell. Her leg trembled against him as he ran his tongue up her slit, getting louder with every touch. A hand scraped through his hair, clinging on as she ground against his mouth. He loved every noise she made, the way her eyes rolled into the back of her head, the way her hand gripped onto his hair, pleading for more. He loved so many things about her.

He loved _her_.

He reached up to kiss her and she pulled him in, as if she was just as desperate to kiss him back, pulling their bodies impossibly close, arms around each other. His heart bled for her as he held her in his arms, littering her neck and face with kisses, rewarded by a rare genuine giggle. This was what he wanted. This was _all_ he wanted; to make her happy.

“Fuck me, Varric.” She breathed into his neck, sending goosebumps down his body.  
“Let me... get a condom.”  
“Can we not just...”  
“No, I don't-” He steeled himself against the feeling of her hot, wet tongue on his neck. “This isn't a conversation to be having right now.” He pulled away from her arms and rummaging for a packet in almost no light. “Would you like to do the honours?”  
“I'd love to.” She smirked as he helped her sit up, taking the packet from his hand and tearing it open. He watched her, eyes wide as her hand slid down his dick, slipping the condom on, taking a few tries to get it to slide down, the pressure leaving him breathless. His hand reached for her chin, pulling her in gently. Maker, he could never get enough of those lips. He helped onto her back, back in the position they were in before, arms around each other, his fingers sliding up and down her slit, pushing in gently.

“Fuck...” She moaned, her bottom lip savaged by her teeth, her eyes glowing as they rolled into the back of her head.  
“Are you ready?”  
“Hell yeah.”

Slowly, he pushed in between her legs. She gasped against him, her chest pushing into his, her hot breath against his neck as he thrust slowly into her. With each thrust,they kissed feverishly, roughly, passionately, the most amazing noises coming from her as she trembled against him. He reached a hand between her legs and rubbed at her clit, her grip on him getting stronger still, every breath now a moan as she pushed against every thrust, deeper every time, in perfect sync.

“...faster...” She pleaded, voice choked with want as she wrapped her legs around him. Fuck, he wasn't even sure if he'd make it long enough, but he sped up, a soft whine coming from her mouth. Nails dug into his back as she bounced against him, sweat dripping against the heat of the room , her mouth wide open and pressed against his ear. All he could hear was her. All he could feel was her. All he could taste, or see, or want was her.

With a guttural groan, he came, shuddering against her as his eyes squeezed shut. All the tension, all the emotions seemed to fly out of him as she kissed him, her tongue swirling into his mouth as she kept thrusting against him, quicker and quicker still, a deep breath swelling her chest, gripping onto him until she shattered too, bucking, moaning, grappling. He did his best through it, thrusting into her until he stilled, unable to find the energy to move any more. He let his head fall a little as he tried to still his trembling heart, their foreheads touching for a long moment. Bliss. That was the only way he could describe it.

All too soon though, she began to shuffle away from him. So with a heave, he rolled onto his side, his arms still around her and a smile on his face so wide that his cheeks could snap. But she just wriggled away from him and sat up with a stretch. That was okay, of course it was. It's not like anything was going to change because of what had just happened.

“How was that?” He asked with a shakier voice than wanted to have.  
“Yeah, good, yeah.” Her eyes shifted away towards the window. “Just- I'm just thirsty.”  
“I'll get you some water.”  
“Thanks.” Her voice cracked a little. Man, she must have been parched.

But where did they stand now? Sure, minutes ago he was convinced that she loved him too, that there was deeper meaning in that caress, that she _could_ feel the same way... but he'd assumed that. Shit. He couldn't lose her now, not after everything. That would be the death of him. But maybe they could speak about it, if he was careful enough.

But when he came back through with her water, she was already deep in the thralls of sleep, sprawled over the top of his bed as if it were her own. He placed the water beside her, for once neglecting to remember who that bedside table had once belonged to, shuffled her over a little and lay down beside her, a gentle hand stroking at her hair. His eyelids were already far too heavy to fight sleep tonight and he soon followed into the darkness.

  
  


Something moved against his stomach and he struggled against the crust around his eyes to open them. Oh, it was just Hawke. The two of them were caught up in a tangle of limbs, her head resting on his chest. She shuffled against him, her breath tickling his neck. He wanted nothing more than to roll over and cuddle into her more, to wake her up by planting kisses over her neck, but he couldn't do that. Not until they'd actually spoken about it first, at least.

He stole his arm back to scratch at his neck, and she groaned gently against her, her eyes fluttering open. Something inside told him it was better to keep his eyes shut, so he listened.

“ _Shit_.” She breathed, retreated from him as if she'd been burned.

She stumbled around the room, muttering things he couldn't quite hear as she scrabbled for her things, but he wasn't even sure if he wanted to hear what she was muttering anyway. When all finally went quiet, he hazard a peek to see Hawke fully dressed, ready to go, but stalling with a hand on the door handle and a look on her face that nearly stopped his heart as she stared blankly out of the window. She just looked so... sad. Despondent, even. Lips pursed as if she was a hair away from bursting into tears.

But a moment later, she silently opened the door and dragged a hand through her mop of hair. He only felt like he could breathe again once the door had closed with the quietest click.

Why did he get his hopes up? Why did he think he had a chance with her? This all meant nothing to her. Just friendship. She'd said it herself, he was just her _friend_. And if that was all he could get, snatching small moments of bliss from her then of course he'd rather have that than not have her at all.

His heart still ached from the emotional roller-coaster of the previous night, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, not with that familiar ache in his chest. That needto write, to put feelings into words, to find order in the mess was only growing and he knew he wouldn't be able to ignore it much longer. He rolled over to reach for his phone, tapping only a few notes down. Just a few of the words that popped into his head. And then more. And more. Short sentences growing longer and longer, growing into a beast of a thing. His phone wasn't enough; he needed his notebook. No, he needed his laptop for this, taking himself through to his desk as if possessed, turning it on and opening a word document. Words flowed out of him as his fingers danced over the keys, stopping only to find the exact right word for the job.

His laptop didn't leave his sight that whole day, typing and retyping, editing and re-reading over the scene until it was etched into his mind, all 7,528 words of bliss. How he wished he could tell her how he felt, how they would wake up together, tangled into each other and cuddle in closer, not run away, how she would talk about her feelings, not run away from everything for once.

By the time the had sun faded to pink, he was finally happy with it. Sure, he knew from the start that it was going to be nothing more than a vent, he'd delete it once it was done and never think about again... but all those hours poured into it, his whole heart drained of feeling because of it. No, he just couldn't. So he changed the name to something stupid and buried it in the depths of his document folder, along with his feelings and fragile hopes.

  
  


\- - - - - - - - -

  
  


**Saturday 1:35AM**  
Belaaa: Hey guys, I know you might be asleep, but any chance one of you could help me home? There's been an incident at work and I really don't want to go back on my own.  
Belaaa: I mean I wouldn't normally ask this but I'm kinda shaken up and Zev is out of town.  
Dragon Master: I'll be there in a bit, just need to get clothes on.  
Cool Story Bro: I'll be there too. Where do you want to meet us?  
Belaaa: Thank you so much!!!  
Belaaa: Outside the club if possible  
Cool Story Bro: And could whoever it is that's changed my chat name _please_ change it back?  
Belaaa: Maybe a ghost did it?  
Cool Story Bro: Ha ha ha.

 **Saturday 1:51AM**  
Cool Story Bro: I'm almost at yours, Hawke. Have you left yet?  
Dragon Master: Nope but I'm ready.  
Dragon Master: Just let me know when you're here and I'll run down.  
Cool Story Bro: Okay.

 **Saturday: 2:04AM**  
Cool Story Bro: That's me here.  
Dragon Master: Coming

She slid out the front door of her flat building, and gave him a punch in the arm in greeting. “Heyyyy. Fancy seeing _you_ here!” She joked as they started their walk.  
“I know! What a small world it is.”  
“Long time no see, I guess. You're looking good!”  
“Yeah, sorry I've been so busy with everything. I've barely seen you recently. How've you been?”  
“The usual, really. You?”  
“Good, yeah.”

They started walking towards the direction of the club and Hawke rummaged for a cigarette. It was a warm evening, maybe a little muggy for his liking, but a soft breeze prevailed. The streets around them were the closest to deserted that he'd seen it in a long time, but then again, when was he last out at this time of night? It was strange seeing Hawke after so long. It was at least a good few weeks since they'd hung out properly, wasn't it? It was hard to tell in the dim light, but she seemed a little more dishevelled than usual.

“Have you been looking after yourself okay?”  
She let out a sarcastic laugh. “I wish.”  
“Anything I can do to help?”  
“You're too sweet.” She sighed, taking a draw. “I'll be fine. Just shit going on.”  
“What were you up to today then?”  
She shrugged lamely, “I can't even remember. Watched some TV, nipped to the shops... You?”  
“Working mostly.”  
“Any more of your story done?”  
“Yeah, actually. I managed to finish a chapter just the other day for the first time in ages.”  
“Well done.” She smiled. “And how are things with Bianca?”  
“Getting better, actually. I took your advice about having a date night, actually. We were out at the cinema the other night.”  
“That's good.” She smiled.  
Something tugged at his mind, a question forming on his lips. “You know how you always say you're 'free as a bird'?”  
“Well I am a Hawke!” She snorted at the bad pun, raising her fingers into guns. “Hah, that never gets old!” She cleared her throat and avoided his line of sight. “What, free like with relationships?”  
He nodded, watching her face intently.“Have you ever been in a relationship?”  
The breath she took through her teeth was almost a hiss as the cigarette reached her lips, pausing just short. “Yes I have, but I don't want any other questions on the subject.”

That seemed an awful lot like a sore patch. Okay, maybe they weren't _quite_ close enough for that yet.

“Fair enough.” He sighed, his arms folded tightly across his chest. “I guess I envy you a little.”  
The sound of her laughter took him completely by surprise. “Yeah?”  
“It's just, you don't have that worry in the back of your head that something is going to go wrong.”  
“You think it will?”  
“No, I just can't stop thinking about all the things that can go wrong in a relationship, in a marriage...”  
“That worry is one of the things keeping me away from being with other people. You have a good relationship, Varric. I-” She caught her breath and blinked. “I guess... I'm kinda jealous of _you_.”  
“Really? But you have that fr...” No, he wasn't saying that word. No, he didn't _really_ want that, did he? “Maybe I just regret getting into a relationship with Bianca so young.”  
Her eyebrows flinched. “Oh?”  
“I've been with her so long, I don't even know...” No, he didn't know. He didn't need to think those things.  
She tilted her head, curiosity tugging at her eyebrows. “Were you looking for a serious relationship when you two got together?”  
“I don't even know. I mean we didn't actually get serious until about three years in. Before that we just ran awkward circles around each other. It was really fucking tiring.”  
“I can imagine. You know... Mum was about nineteen when they got together. Dad was twenty.” She blew a raspberry. “Can you believe that?”  
“I don't doubt you.”  
“They were together close to thirty years.”  
“Were they happy for all those years?”  
“Fuck, no. They were on the verge of divorce for at least five of them.” She tilted her head away, ready to take a draw of her cigarette. “Not that the twins ever knew.”  
“Okay, last question.” She threw him a reluctant smirk. “Do you think – and stop me if I'm being too nosey – has moving to Kirkwall been worth it?”  
“Y...yes. For me, at least. Maybe not for Mother, but look how well Bethany has been doing here! She passed her exams with flying colours! If that doesn't make it worth it for her then I just don't know what will.”  
“That's life, you can't please everyone.”  
“Yeah, well... I learnt that the hard way.”  
He knew he'd be asking this, he needed to know before he got his hopes up, but it didn't explain how his chest clenched as he struggled to get the words out. “Do you think you'd ever... move back over there?”  
“Oh fuck, I really don't know. I don't think I will, but then again I might jinx it. But I don't know if I really could... That place was like a cage, sometimes. Every time I left the house I'd see people I knew. Everyone knew everyone there and it was just... too much. Sometimes it's nice to get lost in a crowd, you know?”

The cigarette hit her lips for a good few seconds as she stood, eyes glazed towards the stairs, a hand running through her hair. Above them, the sky threatened to rain, the beginnings of stars darkened by the hoards of clouds.

“But here, I've just made it all about me. As always.” She turned back to him and took a smoke. “You've already asked me a few questions so I think it's only fair if I can ask some too.”  
“Sure.” He sighed, resigned to his fate.  
She pursed her lips before a spark came to her, a dangerous smirk curling at her lips. “What are you afraid of?”  
He paused for a long moment, staring down at the ground and at his feet, the street-lights reflected in the leather of his boots. “I... I don't know... I'm not exactly _afraid_ of it, but... in my story I write so many characters, that each have a little part of me in them... I don't know if I can quite do them justice because all I have is just words that I can't quite get right. I guess... maybe I worry that I'll never be good enough.”  
“I really like your books.”  
“You do?”  
“Yeah! And so what if your books aren't 'perfect'? Do you enjoy writing them?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Then fuck what everyone else thinks!”  
“It's not quite that easy when it's your job” He grumbled. “And then with the people that actually _do_ like my work, I feel whenever people see me in the street and ask for an autograph, the Varric Tethras they see in their head, the one in the author picture at the top of the column... that's not me.”  
“But you're more than any of that, Varric. And you sure as hell are more than your picture.”  
“You think?  
“I'm sorry, but if I thought all you are is a handsome chunk of a man then I'd probably have gotten bored of you by now. And I know for a fact that you couldn't pose for a photo with half your shirt off without laughing between the snaps.”  
“Yeah, I-.” Well, she had a point. “...Yeah.”  
“But yeah, I kinda know how it feels not to know who you are.” She took a draw, blinking from smoke in her eye. “I just... had this idea of what I'd be like as an adult. You know, who I'd be, but this is just...” Her hands flew about as if they'd speak what she couldn't, “I just...”  
“It's not what you thought?”  
“No, I mean sure, it's not what I thought it'd be like, but I don't know... I guess I'm not _who_ I thought I'd be.”  
“Yeah...” He nodded, his eyes drifting to the pavement. “Can I just ask... why did you start going by Hawke?”  
She pursed her lips, her eyes distant for a moment before they locked onto his. “Dad used to call me his “little Hawke” and it just stuck. Mostly because I wanted it to, I loved it when he called me that.” The softest smile brushed over her face as she lit the cigarette in her hand, but by the time it reached her lips, it was replaced by a dark scowl. “And I didn't want anyone to see Marian, this scared little girl that was too shy to say hi. I wanted them to see _Hawke_ , this awesome girl that was too cool to say hi.” Her head suddenly tilted away as she took a draw. “And it's really stupid, but I can still remember when you first spoke to me, you used my first name. I was about to run, I thought you were some family member I'd never met come to corner me.”  
“Me? A family member of yours? Perish the thought!” He let out a hearty bark of laughter.  
“It's true! I apparently have an uncle living here in the city that I didn't know about.”  
“But in all honesty, you do know I can call you Marian if you want me to.”  
“ _Fuck_ no!” She suddenly erupted into laughter herself, the sound bouncing off the walls of the narrow street. “I don't think I even _want_ to know whoever Marian is. She's not me, anyway. If I was her then I doubt anyone could stand me.”  
“I doubt _that_.”  
“I don't even know who Hawke is, who _I_ am.” her eyes were piercing, searching, almost desperate to know. “Who am I?”  
“What do you see when you look in a mirror?”  
“You don't need to hear that.”  
“Yes, but I want to.”

Shit, he wasn't being too forward again, was he? He steeled himself for the apology, ready for when she'd inevitably fade out of his life like almost everyone else had.

“I see... good hair with a failure attached.” Her voice was already cracking. “Oh and a mess of scars. Mostly _this_ fucking monstrosity.” She pointed to her nose with a shaking finger, her eyes already leaking.  
“In all honestly, I barely noticed it. I don't think anyone does.”  
“I think if you saw properly it you'd think differently.”  
A hand reached to swipe at the damp of her eyes, but it came back down with a pale mark of makeup on her sleeve. “Oh, fuck it.” She hoarsely croaked.

Her hand rubbed frantically at her nose until every last bit of makeup was off. She withdrew with a quivering lip, pulling her fringe back, away from her eyes and for once he could see the depths of her eyes. A million shades of blue leaking onto her cheeks, her nose awash with reds and pinks and the tentative brown of freckles. And in the middle of it all, contrasting against the colour, one pale line stretching over the bridge of her nose.

“There!” She announced. “Are you happy now?”  
“Is it bad if I say I am?” If she was feeling anything other than shock, he couldn't tell. “I just want you to be yourself around me. You and all of your shitty puns and your finger guns.”  
“No you don't.”  
“Yes I do. You care a whole lot more than you give herself credit for.”  
“Not really.”  
“Need I remind you of why you're standing here in the first place? Was it not to help a friend in need?”  
“Yeah but...” Her silence told him she didn't have another excuse.  
“And if nothing else, you always put a smile on my face. I'd like to think I know you better than you maybe want me to and I still consider you a best friend.” Her face contorted a little, not exactly the reaction he'd hoped for. “What's wrong?”  
“You don't _really_ mean that.”  
“Stop underselling yourself, Hawke. Why wouldn't I want to be your best friend?” In for a silver, in for a sovereign. “You're the best friend I've ever had and we've only known each other...”  
She swiped at her eyes. “It's been almost half a year, Varric. It's already been my anniversary of moving here.”  
“What? When did that happen?”  
“Umm, yesterday I think?”  
Really? He'd have to make a note of that later. “But I honestly _do_ mean it.”  
“Well... yeah, you're my best friend too.” She nudged him with her elbow and gave him an awkward smile that could have melted a heart of stone. “But I know like ten people here and you know pretty much the whole fucking city, so going by the odds, I'd say it's pretty clear I'm the real winner here.”  
“If you want to believe that, then sure.”

And then an idea suddenly struck him. Maker's breath, why didn't he think of that before?

“Well, I've been thinking...”  
“Oh no, what?”  
“Would you do me the honour of being my best man?”  
“What!?”Her face lit up like a thousand colours. “Wait, does that mean I have to wear a suit?”  
“You can if you want.”  
She was silent for a long moment, her head turning to the ground beneath her. “Maker, I don't- I'm just... I'm flattered you'd ask me.”  
Something tightened inside of him. “I'm sensing a but.”  
“No, no! No buts!” She giggled at the unintended pun. “I'm just surprised you'd want me planning anything. I have to plan your stag night, right?”  
“I guess so.” He smirked. Fuck, she could probably plan the best one ever, especially if Rivaini got involved. Actually, maybe better that she didn't get involved, now that he thought about it.  
“Well, what does Bianca think about it?”  
“I'm sure she'll be fine with it.”

Silence descended on them like a warm breeze. For once words didn't even need to be said. Had he ever connected with someone on a deeper level? Fuck, maybe not even with Bianca. But before they knew it, they were there.

“There you two are!” Isabela cried, popping round the corner. “Right, everything is dealt with and fine.”  
The warmth of Hawke's smile faded into something rather more bleak, a hand rising up her face and hovering over her nose. “What happened?”  
“This place is ran by the carta so this place isn't exactly starved of drama, this time has just been worse than usual. It's all okay though, the idiots are being escorted to the police station.” She ripped off the band from her ponytail, ran a frustrated hand through her hair and scraped a messy bun on the top of her head. “Anyway, Shall we get a taxi?”  
“Sure.”

It wasn't far, they could easily walk, but no matter. They crammed into the fist that stopped for them and Isabela gave her address, the group struggling to get the seatbelts on before the taxi driver sped off into the next dimension. They were there before they even knew it.

“Here's the money for the taxi, guys.” Isabela sighed, passing over a rolled up note.  
“Want me to stay with you tonight?” Hawke asked as she slipped out the door and peeked around just in case.  
“No, no. I'll be fine.” She smiled, giving both of them a whopping great kiss on the cheek. “You two get home safe too, okay?”  
“We will, don't you worry.” He waved until her door closed in front of them and then turned to Hawke. “To yours' then?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Lowtown street, if you wouldn't mind.” Varric called to the taxi driver.  
“No problem.” The car burst into motion, slamming them both back in their seats.  
“Thanks for the chat, by the way.” She smiled from behind her fringe. “I really appreciate it.”  
“Honestly Hawke, any time.”  
“Well, If they don't fuck up the rota again then I should be free Wednesday. Maybe we could meet up? At the Hanged Man?”  
“We could do, or you could come round to mine for dinner, maybe meet Bianca.”  
“Yeah, that would be nice.” She gave him a bashful smile and a punch in the arm as the taxi pulled up outside her door and she hopped out. “See you later.”

And then, all to soon the door was closed and the taxi sped off again, but he was still blinded in his mind by the blue that was her eyes. Aah, she certainly was something special, wasn't she?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Varric!  
> I don't even want to know how long I've spend editing this chapter, at least 30 hours over the last week. Sometimes I wonder why I don't have a life haha. As I said before, this is one of the best chapters that I've written in my opinion, so any constructive criticism would be very much appreciated <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, a scene in this chapter may be hard for some to read due to dubious consent.

Without even having to open her eyes, Hawke could tell that this was the worst hangover she'd had in a long time, probably not since her birthday. Something shuffled against her so she stretched, slowly peeling her eyes apart to adjust to the blinding light . It took her a few moments to realise where she was; at Varric's. And it took her another moment to realise what her head was resting on; Varric. Last night filtered back through, a haze of partying, cake and drinks, the feeling of Varric's arms around her, his lips on her skin, the softness, the feeling of belonging-

 _Shit_. She sprung up from the bed, away from him, away from the warmth and softness she definitely didn't deserve, grabbing her clothes with shaking hands and throwing them on before he could wake up. Knowing him, he'd probably ask her if she was okay or why she was running away, but she wouldn't have been able to say, she couldn't even string a sentence together. All she could do was just focus on getting out of there before the walls could clamp in around her. But once she was ready to go, she couldn't quite bring herself to open the door, her hand hovering over the handle, refusing to grip onto it. Would it really be such a bad thing to cuddle into him and wake him with a soft kiss on the end of his nose?

Yes. Yes it would.

So instead of giving into that stupid impulse, she crept out of the flat, her nails digging deep into her palms to stop the threat of tears, but at least she could breathe again. She couldn't think of anything less appealing than the long walk home, so she headed towards the nearest bus stop, digging in her pocket for change.

Why the hell did she think taking the bus would be a good idea? Public transport was unbearable at the best of times and adding in a hangover, she was ready to bang her head off the handrail. The vehicle was a moving greenhouse, light streaming in the windows and baking the people alive. Who in the right mind would let their children run up and down the isle of the bus, screaming their lungs off? Once again, as she would pretty much every time she took the bus, she vowed never to take it again.

By the time she finally pushed through the door to her flat, she'd decided that kids were put on earth specifically to torture her. Why anyone would chose to look after them was completely beyond her. Caffeine was needed, more specifically, tea, so her first stop was the kitchen. Bethany was already in there, scrubbing at the counters with a scowl permanently etched on her face. Great, there went her hopes for peace and quiet. She steeled herself for a rant, especially since she didn't come home last night, but no, she didn't say a word. She didn't even bother to look in her direction. Right. Well, that was easier, at least. A fresh cup of tea in tow, she pushed through to her bedroom and breathed a weighted sigh of relief; finally, she was back in _her_ domain. That was more than enough social interaction to last her the year.

Kicking her shoes off and shrugging her jacket from her shoulders, she draped herself in her ratty, matted dragon blanket, pulling it over her head like a hood, her hands curled around the boiling hot mug as she did her best to keep her mind off certain things by mindlessly scrolling through her social media feed. Oh, that guy Roy from last night had sent her a friend request. He was nice enough, hot to boot and a definite hook-up, so why _didn't_ she go to Chainz with him? Why was she so desperate to see Varric that she turned up at his door instead? Why was she so desperate to kiss him softly and as she melted in his arms? Why did she want to cuddle into him this morning and see his honey eyes peek open, their soft lines crinkling at the sight of her as she pulled him in closer for a gentle first kiss of the day. All she knew was that she hadn't felt like that with anyone for a long, long time. Probably not since Siv, actually. Ugh, gross. Something disgusting tried to crawl its way out her stomach and she had to swallow it back down.

Okay, so avoiding thinking about it obviously wasn't working any more, so she needed something else to stop herself going crazy. She reached for her pack of cigarettes and lighter, still engulfed in the blanket, fighting against the late summer heat as she threw open her flat window. Closing her eyes, she took the first draw, a small wave of relief washing over her. _Fuck_ , she needed that. Maybe the best thing to do was pretend that certain 'visit' to Varric's had never happened. But what if he brought it up? Shit.

Once the cigarette was down to the butt, she flicked it in her mabari mug ashtray, closed the curtains against the early afternoon sun, shuffled back into bed and closed her eyes, praying for the escape of sleep.

  
  


  
  


She didn't see Varric for the next few days. She didn't phone him on her lunch breaks or message him back as soon as she usually would. It's not like she was ignoring him on purpose or anything, she had no reason to anyway. She just... needed space. Yeah, that was it.

But by the time Thursday rolled around, her opinion had changed. Fuck needing space, she needed a... well, a fuck. By the time she left work for the day, she figured it was high time to pay a visit to her best friend and reap some of the benefits. So she walked over to his, the same way she had so many times before; flying down the Hightown steps, past the crowds at the Lowtown crossroads and the old Lowtown markets, slinking into the building without the need of the buzzer, thanks to someone leaving the door ajar. She trudged up the stairs, raised her fist and tapped out a tune with her knuckle. Sure, she'd given him no warning, but it was a Thursday, so he'd be in anyway. And of course, she was right. His face lit up the moment it appeared from behind the door, but it didn't make her feel any better. In fact, if anything it made her feel worse.

“Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!” He cried, throwing the door open for her to come in.  
Her smile turned plastic as she slid past him, stepping out of her shoes, dropping her coat and bag as she went, as if Varric's floor was her own personal cloakroom.  
“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” He smirked.  
“Why do I _ever_ come over?”  
“To spend time with your favourite dwarf?”  
“'Spend time'? _That's_ what you're calling it now?” She smirked, her arms folded, pushing up her chest. She could see Varric's eyes flicker and then linger as he shut the front door.

Her arm shot out and grabbed his collar, pulling him in so quickly that their lips crashed together. No softness this time, but he tasted of sugar and... apples? Had he eaten a pie? Nevertheless, her hand inched towards the back of his head, pulling him in closer still, leading him backwards towards the bedroom without even needing to look.

Once in the stillness of his room, she threw herself onto the low bed, leaning back on her elbows so she could keep an eye on what was going on. The curtains were drawn and the night already pretty dark, but his eyes watched her as he crossed the room to sit on the foot of the bed, but the look in them wasn't lustful like she'd expected. Instead it was much softer. It was that look again, the one she'd seen so many times, when he talked about books and articles he was proud of, or when he watched people enjoy the food he'd made, or that night when they held each other in their arms, moments before he'd lean in to kiss her. Without warning, her chest clenched, her lungs no longer working as she tried her best not to think about what was probably going though his mind. Hopefully he wouldn't notice how shredded inside of her mouth was.

And shit, there it was again; that dull ache in her chest. That emotional emptiness as if she'd spent the last hour crying out every last drop of emotion and had no more left to give. She tried to swallow it down but it refused to budge. Great.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, as he crawled over to her, his eyes catching the dim hallway light as he searched for an answer to her least favourite question in the world. She hummed a response and pulled him on top of her, their lips meeting forcefully, her elbows giving way as she fell square onto her back. In reality, she didn't know how to answer that question right now, but he didn't need to know that.

Her hands wondered over his body, desperate to get started before her mind could get in the way. She began by undoing his trousers, and pulling at them as she pushed against his lips. He followed the lead, pulling at her jeans, their kiss only ending so he could pull them all the way off, but he was back at her neck before she knew it, his stubble scratching against her the same way it had every time before. How many times had they done this now? So many that they were basically going through the motions. No, _she_ was. Shit, he really did deserve better.

But there was much more important things to be thinking about, especially with her t-shirt already up over her head, his nimble fingers fiddling at her bra strap. He pecked at her collar bone, trailing lower to her breasts, ghosting over her nipple. She pursed her lips as he licked and nipped at them, his hands exploring the soft skin. She knew where his lips would eventually lead to, he was pretty predictable at times, could he not just get on with it? She'd had a long day of pretending to have the emotional energy to do her work and she was pretty tired of having to paint a smile on her face. Of course, Varric was oblivious to her inner turmoil, too busy exploring the pale skin of her legs, paying extra attention to the sensitive skin of her hips, feeling the low rumble of his chuckle as she squirmed against his gentle touch. She could feel his fingers tracing circles on her leg, higher and higher until-

“Aaaaaafffffuck.” She moaned as he brushed a finger over her folds, his other hand holding her down.

Sure, she'd promised that these 'benefits' wouldn't get in the way of their friendship, and they hadn't, not really. But would she have told him how she felt if they hadn't started this... whatever it was? Would she tell him she woke up with what felt like the weight of the world on her chest? That even getting out of bed was a struggle? That she couldn't get through the day without feeling broken or worthless? Or that she felt as if she was drowning, she couldn't cope and for what reason? Maybe she _would_ have told him, but only if she was drunk enough. But this wasn't the time for what if's.

Back in the real world, Varric's fingers were pushing inside of her and withdrawing just as quickly. Wait, when did that happen? Was she really _that_ absorbed in her own mind? She tried to focus on the sensation, which worked for a split second as a rush of arousal washed over her, but it left as soon as it started. She still felt just as empty afterwards. Great, she couldn't even enjoy sex any more, could she?

“Ffffuck... me...” She pleaded with rasping breaths.

Varric knew well enough by now to do as he was told so after a few more movements with his fingers, he scrabbled for a condom, put it on, positioned his cock against her entrance and pushed. Another rush of arousal spread throughout her body, lasting a little longer this time as Varric pushed himself against her, softly, far too softly. It was just like before. No, she couldn't have that.

“Faster.” She moaned  
“Faster?” He growled, a smirk growing over his face. “Don't you worry, I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll be seeing stars.”

He gained speed with every thrust, but she just couldn't keep herself away from the dark corners of her mind. She threw her head back, fighting against the lump in her throat, burning away like acid. Her eyes clenched shut as she twisted her face to look as if she was lost to the sensation, but the acid burned her eyes now instead. They were threatening to leak, but she'd be damned if she spilled a drop of emotion in front of him.

“Could-” She did her best to reign in her emotions, at least for long enough to speak, his eyes watching her. “Could we change position?”  
“Sure. What did you have in mind?”  
She flipped over onto her knees and burrowed her head in the pillow, her teeth digging into her bottom lip so hard she'd be worried about drawing blood if she actually gave a fuck.

But Varric didn't deserve _this_. He deserved someone that loved him, someone willing to tell him, to show it, to give themselves to him. Not her. Not a slut getting off at her best friend's expense. She'd never be good enough for him anyway. Even if she tried. Even if she became a fucking revered mother, because she knew that Siv was right. Deep down, she'd always be a shit. All she wanted was for this to be over, for Varric to finish and to empty the contents of many an alcoholic bottle into her mouth. Thankfully, he seemed to be getting close now, judging by his ragged breath and faltering rhythm, so she forced her breaths louder, more lustful, although it was the furthest thing from what she really felt. Every moan was a lie, a failing attempt to keep her emotions at bay, but again, he didn't need to know that.

Within minutes, Varric's hands gripped almost painfully onto her hips, slamming their bodies together for one last time as he let out a chocked groan. She could feel his dick pulse inside of her has the thrusting came to a shattering stop. Good for him. After far too long, he finally lay back.

“Shit, sorry.” He groaned, sitting back against the headboard of the bed, struggling to catch his breath, his face in his hands. “You didn't come, did you?”  
She blew a raspberry and took the opportunity to swipe at her eyes and flip the moist pillow over while he wasn't looking. “It's fine. I mean, you're always to eager to please me so...” She shrugged, swallowing desperately against the emotion threatening to spill at the lightest touch. “You know, swings and roundabouts.”  
His arm fell to his side, meeting her eyes and again, he had that look. She couldn't do it, she couldn't look at him any longer or she'd turn into a teary mess. He reached to touch her shoulder, but she flinched away, stumbling to her feet.  
“I'm going to em, clean up in the bathroom,” She croaked, her vision blurry with the beginnings of tears as she sped to the bathroom, locked the door and curled up in a ball on the floor, ready for her emotions to take over.

And yet, no tears would fall, not even when she could let them. Instead, there was only emptiness where emotion should have been. That wasn't normal, was it? Maybe her period was coming soon. It would make sense to keep track of it so she could know, but that would involve having to be organised. But she may have just been looking for an excuse. For all she knew she really was just this fucked up, but it wouldn't surprise her if that was the case.

Carefully, she made her way to her feet, greeted by the mirror and a stupid, ugly face staring back at her through bloodshot eyes. If she could just go back to having the emotional capacity of a goldfish, that would be great. But she couldn't spend the rest of her life hiding in a bathroom, so with a heavy sigh, she gave herself a wipe and splashed cold water onto her face. She half hoped Varric would have something to eat. What was she thinking, this was Varric; of course he had food! With her face finally de-reddened, she opened the bathroom door to the sound of clattering. Of course, she followed the noise to the kitchen.

“Chicken nuggets?” Varric's voice came out from inside the freezer.  
“Uuuugh, fuck yes.” She moaned with more feeling than she'd had the whole day, “You're not in the mood to cook?”  
He shrugged, spreading a tonne of food onto an oven tray. “I made an apple crumble earlier, but I have writing to do.”  
“Oh right,” She let out a laugh that was maybe a little more clinical than expected. “Don't let me keep you then.”  
Confusion crossed over his face as he popped the tray into the oven, “I hope you're not thinking of going after I've just put food on for you.”  
“I... guess not.”  
“Good.” He nodded towards his collection of overfull bookshelves as opposed to the TV, “As always, help yourself to anything while I work.”  
“Actually, would you mind if I had a smoke?”  
His eyebrows raised a little, but he was never one to judge. “You can do it in the bathroom as long as you leave the windows open.”  
“Thanks.”

Someone had once told her (probably Isabela) that a cigarette was always best after sex and there did seem to be some truth to that. The cigarette met her lips and a long, slow draw of relief filled her lungs.

All of those thoughts had just been her overthinking... hadn't they? Varric deserved some fun, someone to let his hair down with and as long as feelings – _his_ feelings – weren't involved then he wasn't going to get hurt. Her brain nor her heart were truly convinced, but she knew that if she repeated it to herself enough times then surely it would seem true. And Bianca had only been a few years ago, hadn't it? If all she was to him was a replacement for Bianca, if he was thinking about _her_ while they were doing stuff then she couldn't blame him. Or, if he was just using her because a good shag could be hard to come by (she chuckled exhaustedly at the pun) then that made the two of them.

There was a knock at the door, tearing her from her thoughts. “Food's ready when you are.” Varric called through.  
“Right, one minute.” She called back, taking one last draw, stubbing it out and flicking the remains in the bin. Back in the living room, she was soon welcomed by a bowl of chicken nuggets with a dollop of ketchup on the side. Had she ever seen something so beautiful? Apart from herself of course, haha.

“You sure you're okay?” Varric asked, watching her as she dug in.  
“Yeah.” She lied through a mouthful of nuggets, “Why?”  
“You just seem a little... off.”  
“How so?”  
“You storm in here, we have sex and then you try to leave the moment we're done.”  
“Isn't that what I usually do?”

No reply came. Instead, he watched her for a moment with that look on his face. That writer's one. The one where he was trying to look into someone's mind and commit their face to memory. It was frustrating, to say the least. The last thing she wanted right now was for Varric to know what she was thinking or how she _really_ felt. No, no, no. She couldn't have that.

“I don't think I'm hungry any more.” Her voice was unapologetically laced with frustration, but she'd used up all her emotional energy on the mask that was already slipping. and she couldn't stay long enough for that to happen.  
“Shit, I'm sorry if I said something-” But she silenced him with a wave of her hands.  
“Just don't-” She bit on her tongue, exhaling with a hiss, unwilling to let the words pass through, no matter how bitter she felt. Not to Varric. “You're too quick to blame yourself. It's been a long day. I'm just tired, that's all.”  
“If you're sure... You know you can talk to me, right?”  
“Of course.” She lied, gritting her teeth into an attempt of a smile. “Who else would I talk to?”

And with that, she gathered her things off the floor and left. Yeah, overthinking wasn't _quite_ the best idea. Where was a cheap drink when she needed one? No-where was cheaper than drinking at home, so she opted for that, picking up another large bottle of vodka and some coke on her way back home. Cheap and cheerful. It was always awkward buying massive bottles of alcohol without anything else, so she grabbed a few packets of tortilla chips and dip.

“Having a party?” The cashier drawled blankly, without even bothering to look at her.  
“Yeah.” She tried to smile, handing her the money, grabbing her bag and leaving the moment she had her change.

Once finally home, the vodka bottle was uncapped with a satisfying crack before she'd even bothered to take her shoes off, attached her phone to her speaker and put on her music. Not just any music, the same music she used to listen to back when she was younger, full of screaming and rage, letting the alcohol blur the distinction between real and what her exhausted mind was thinking. She tore open the chips and dip, munching through with great gusto. If only Varric had waited until she'd eaten her chicken nuggets before starting his interrogation. All those nuggets she could have eaten... Wait, she could have got some nuggets at the shop, now that she thought about it.

Oh well.

No signs of the twins when she went to brush her teeth and go to the loo. Either they were out, or hiding in their rooms like she was. Ugh, this whole bloody flat made her angry. When she finally slipped into bed, it was well past 12. Fuck, she had work tomorrow. _And_ Wicked Grace night. Would she actually be able to face him again? Probably not, to be honest. Maybe she'd give it a miss this week. Maybe. She'll see.

  
  


\- - - - - - - -

  
  


It was just an outfit. So why did it matter to her so much?

Piles of clothes lay abandoned around her as she tried on item after item, but nothing fit, not even her cute Highever weave trousers. Even with a belt on, they looked like they belonged on a clown. She hadn't lost _that_ much weight over here, had she?

She turned to the mirror to look at herself, a map of scars and bones set under her pale skin. She maybe did look thin. Well, maybe not thin, slim? Slender? Fuck, she didn't even know. She didn't _feel_ thinner, but with all the evidence to the contrary she couldn't exactly deny it. All she knew was that she wanted clothes over her asap so she didn't have to look at herself any longer. But what kind of clothes did Bianca wear? Probably none with holes in them. Maybe even designer stuff? How the fuck was she supposed to compete with that? Not that it _was_ a competition or anything, but she couldn't wear half of this shit. In the end, she decided on her least ripped jeans, her favourite (now oversized) mabari t-shirt, her second hand (but new to her) black leather jacket and a belt, because those jeans would be down by her boots without it. She didn't head out the door until she'd taken a swig of vodka, straight from the bottle. She needed _something_ to calm her nerves, at least.

The walk to his place wasn't as relaxing as she'd hoped, what with the evening rush underway, but she made it there in one peace and pushed the buzzer labelled “Davri & Tethras' in fine calligraphy writing. Maybe she was a tad cynical, but it was all a bit too sugary for her.

“Hello?” Varric's voice crackled through the intercom.  
“Guess who!”  
The door buzzed open and she sprinted up the steps, trying not to make it obvious she was gasping for breath. Why a Dwarf lived so high up was beyond her.

“Hawke!” Varric cried from his doorway before she'd even made it all the way up. “Welcome! Glad you could make it.”  
“Of course I did!” She wheezed. “I wouldn't miss this for the world.”  
“Dinner is almost ready, it's burgers tonight!” He took her coat to hang it up, quite obviously doing his best to be hospitable. How adorable! “Can I get you anything in the meantime?”  
Oh, she'd need alcohol for this. “Any wine?”  
“Sure, we have red or white.”  
“Uh... white?”  
“I'll get it for you in one second. Make yourself at home in the meantime.”

He motioned towards the living room, which she'd only been in once or twice before, always when Bianca was away. Speak of the devil, there she was, looking so perfect she barely seemed real. Ugh. Shiny, perfectly waved honey-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders and half way down her back. Her clothes were spotless and elegant. How would you even describe that style; professional, office-y? There was no doubt she had money. The whole feel of the room felt completely different from the last time she was there and it wasn't a mystery why.

“It's nice to finally meet you.” Bianca said, rising from the sofa with a painted smile, offering her perfectly Orlesian manicured hand to shake.  
“Likewise.” She smiled, taking her hand and giving it two firm shakes, Bianca's arm flopping wildly. It was pretty funny, actually.

Bianca sat back down and she sat down on the other sofa. She didn't exactly want to get too close. So this was who she had co compete with? Great, she didn't have a chance. No-one in the right mind would pick Hawke, not when Bianca looked so perfect. Even her makeup was perfect, eyeliner so thin it almost looked natural, unlike her own attempt. All her eyeliners were cursed or something because they just never seemed to do what she wanted. Praise the maker for black eyeshadow hiding all sins. But, at least Hawke could say she didn't have such a smarmy little smile on her face. Pfft, who would ever want a face like a smacked arse?

“Is something amusing?” Bianca asked rather pointedly.  
“No, no.” She smirked, trying to ignore how alike her face was to a cat's butt. Oh god, now she saw it she couldn't un-see it.  
“Your wine, Messerre.” Varric smiled, sweeping into the room like a breath of fresh air and giving her an over-exagerated bow.  
“Thank you, Messerre!” She grinned, bowing back and taking the wine, watching Bianca's face shrivel even more. Hah!  
“Could I have some more wine, Varric?” Bianca asked.  
“Sure! One sec, I just need to check on the food.” And he was back in the kitchen within a second.

More awkward silence. What could they even talk about?

“You know,” Bianca began, beating her to it. “I can't understand why someone would want to wear jeans with holes in them. I just don't get fashion nowadays.”  
“Well I can't imagine what it's like to be able to afford new clothes every time a hole or two appears.”

Well that shut her up. She sat awkwardly, blinking and silent for a moment, her smile now a grimace. Hawke 1, Bianca 0... not that she was counting or anything.

“So Bianca...” She swirled the wine in her glass as if she knew what she was doing. “...you're an engineer, right?” Yes, always good to play it safe.  
“Yes, I am.”  
“Where did you study then?”  
“Orleis. I was at the University of Val Royeaux.”  
“Your family must be loaded then.”  
“If you're implying that my family paid my way into that university then you're greatly mistaken.”  
“Oh no, not at _all_. My sister is currently at college in Kirkwall – nowhere fancy – learning to be a teacher and she can barely afford the fees on top of living costs, even though me and my brother are pitching in what we can. Some of her classmates have even had to drop out due to debt. So what I _am_ implying is that formal education is an establishment that favours the rich.”

Bianca was stunned for a long moment, a hand on her chest and her mouth agape. She hadn't meant to offend her, but if she wasn't willing to admit that in the lottery of life she did pretty good.

“So I take it you've never been to University then?”  
“No. Vocational jobs suit me better anyway.”  
“What do you do then?”  
“I work on the floor at a warehouse near the docks. Not thrilling, but the pay is decent enough. And I actually get a break when I work more than 8 hours at a stretch.”  
“You didn't get breaks before?”  
“Yeah.”  
“But that's illegal!”  
“Yeah? That doesn't stop companies from exploiting people they know can exploit. You stand up to them, you get fired. You get fired, you have no income. No income means debt. But I'm sure you're smart enough to figure that out for yourself.”  
“Yes, I know that, thank you very much.”  
“Here you go, B.” Varric sighed, shuffling into the room. “Sorry it took a while.”  
“No worries.” She smiled, taking the drink, the glass not leaving her lips for a good half-minute.

She decided she'd had enough of trying to interact with Bianca, so she followed Varric back through to the kitchen.

“Oh, Hawke, I meant to ask how many burgers you're wanting.”  
“Um... One?”  
“You sure you don't want two? There's another one right here with your name on it.”  
She hopped onto the counter, to pretend to get a better look, much to Bianca's outrage. “Well, would you look at that! It _does_ have my name on it!”  
A cute smile wormed its way out of him and he tried to hide it by rubbing at his nose.  
“Oh, stop being so fucking cute.” She groaned, kicking at him, to which he just laughed at.

“Varric?” Bianca smiled through her teeth, luring him over from the doorway. “Can I speak to you?”  
“Sure.” He replied. Hawke turned to look and her scowl worsened still.  
“In _private_.”  
“Oh, right.” He passed Hawke the spatula. “Keep an eye on them, would you?”  
“Right-o.”

With the other two gone, she scraped at the burgers in the pan and sipped at her wine. She could hear them talking rather heatedly in another room, but unfortunately she had no idea what was being said. Maybe she'd pushed Bianca a little far, but she just wanted to make sure she was right for Varric. He deserved the best, after all.

A few moments later they reappeared, her shit-eating grin back on her face in full force. Varric gave her a shifty look as he made his way back over.

“Could you em, get off the counter, Hawke?” He mumbled.  
“Sure.” She smiled, scooting off with a thump. “I think the burgers are done now anyway.”  
“Great!” He took the spatula and began arranging them on the buns. “Here's your plate, Hawke. Help yourself to cheese, salad, sauces... oh-” He reached for an oven glove and took out a tray from the oven of piping hot home made potato wedges. “And these too.”  
“Oh, I'm going to relish this.” She smiled, smothering her burger in sweetcorn relish. She didn't even care much for relish, but it was worth it for the amused snort she got from Varric and the groan she got from Bianca.  
“And yours, B.”  
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Her voice was so saccharine that Hawke hoped it could rot the teeth from her ugly smile. Oh boy, how she wanted to throw the burger in her snooty, shit-eating face, but she wasn't worth it. They made their way back to the living room and Hawke sprawled out over the sofa, Bianca next and Varric sitting in between them.

“Oh my god...” She moaned as she took her first bite of the burger, closing her eyes in bliss.  
“Is it good?” He asked.  
“This is fucking _amazing_ , Varric!”  
His face lit up, a soft redness spreading over his cheeks. “You think?”  
“I'd sell Carver into slavery if it meant I could eat this every day.”  
“You'd find any excuse to get rid of him, though.”  
“Hah, you got me.”

Okay, maybe she'd only been cranky because she was hungry. How she was going to make it home when she was this full already was a mystery. She hadn't even started on the wedges and she wasn't going to be able to stop until her plate was empty. Somehow, she managed though

“I'm absolutely stuffed.” She sighed contentedly, placing her plate down and reaching for the rest of her wine.  
“These are really good, sweetheart.” Bianca smiled, patting him on the knee. “You should definitely cook more often.”  
“I would if I had the time, B.”  
“Oh, how is your work getting on?” Hawke quipped up.  
“Good, yeah. I've got a few commissions to do and then I'll be able to have a bit of a break from writing. Or at least writing for other people.”  
“ _Finally_.” Bianca grumbled into her wine glass.  
“How supportive you are.” Hawke drawled. “You're so lucky, Varric.”  
Bianca didn't even bother hiding the roll of her eyes as she took a drink of her glass _._  
“Go on, tell her what you told me the other night when we were outside the strip club-”  
“ _Excuse_ me?” Bianca interrupted. “You were _where_? When was this!?”  
“Remember on Saturday when we went out to help our friend home?”  
“Oh, so _that's_ where you went the other night! Here I was getting worried that you were doing something unsavoury!” She laughed sarcastically, almost manically as if she was about to tear out her perfectly glossy hair. “You were just at a strip club with Hawke! That's completely fine!”  
“Nothing happened, Bianca.”  
“And what would _you_ count as nothing, hmmm?”  
“Isabela needed help home from work so we met her outside the place and took a taxi back. We didn't even step foot in the place.”  
“Like I believe _that_. Not with _her_ involved.”  
“Come on, cut him some slack! Nothing happened.”  
“And I'm supposed to trust _you?_ Oho, that's rich!”  
“Me? I'm not doing anything!” She feigned ignorance with a hurt look at Varric, who reacted immediately.  
“Come on, Bianca! It's bad enough you badmouthing her when she's not here, but this is getting ridiculous! She's our guest, can't you even be civil for one evening?”  
“Not with _her._ ”  
She scoffed. “Well, as his Best Man, I think-.”  
“Wait, what!?” She screeched, stunning the room into silence. “ _She's_ your best man!? Well, this is the first _I've_ heard about this!”  
“What's the big deal? She's my best friend!”  
“Best friend? She's a manipulative little bi-”  
“ _Bianca_!” He growled, cutting straight through her. “That's enough!”  
She scoffed, doing her best not to let them see how frustrated she was. “Wow, are you _really_ taking _**her**_ side?”  
“I'm not taking any sides, but you need to calm the fuck down.”  
“She's sticking _her_ nose into _**our**_ relationship! Can't you see a problem with that!?”  
“All I'm trying to do is back up my best friend when he's being unfairly treated. ”  
She scoffed so loudly it echoed. “Just go home, Hawke.”  
“What, and end this evening that Varric has been looking forward to for weeks now?”  
“You're the one that ruined it, don't go shoving the blame on me.”  
“All I did was give my opinion-”  
“An opinion that isn't needed, it isn't wanted and quite frankly is rude and childish!”  
“Oh, so _I'm_ the rude one? _I'm_ the childish one? Not you who's screaming at someone just trying to-”  
“GET. OUT.” She snarled, flinging her arm towards the door, teeth bared like a predator. “THIS IS BETWEEN ME AND VARRIC. **NOT. YOU.** ”

Hawke raised an eyebrow at Varric, but he just looked away, shaking his head. She may not have been the best at knowing when to step down, but that was as good a hint as any. She closed the door behind her, but no door could keep the spiteful words from spilling out.

“Why did you have to talk to Hawke like that!?” Varric's muffled voice shouted from behind the door.  
“I don't understand why you _don't_!”  
“Why would I ever talk to anyone like that? You've just ruined a perfectly good evening!”  
“ _I've_ ruined this evening? _Really_? Have you not noticed how spiteful she's been towards me or have you been too busy licking her boots to even notice?!”  
“She was probably only like that because you were mean to her! What the fuck is your problem with her?”   
“My problem is that she's a conniving little bitch that's interfering with _our_ relationship!”  
“She's not interfering! Am I not _allowed_ to tell my friends things that are worrying me?”  
“Not _her_. She's trying to wedge herself between us on purpose!”  
“Whoa, why are you so obsessed about her?”  
“Me?” She audibly scoffed. “ _I'm_ the one obsessed with her? You should listen to yourself sometimes!”  
“What's _that_ supposed to mean?”  
“It's always 'Hawke did this!' or 'Hawke did that!' or 'I'm off to see Hawke!' or 'Do you want to hear this funny thing Hawke said earlier?'”  
“I'm not like that!” He insisted. Maybe _he_ was a little too dense to get what Bianca was implying, but Hawke certainly wasn't.   
“Wow, just- wow! Either you're a fucking good liar or you're neck deep in denial right now and I don't think I even want to know which it is.”  
“I'm not lying about anything! I've _never_ lied to you!”  
She laughed at that, maniacal and without abandon until it suddenly stopped. “Wait, you're being serious?” She scoffed loudly, turning into a growl. “I can't be bothered with this any more, I'm done!”  
“Well, _**I'm**_ not done! _”_  
“SHUT UP!”  
“BIANCA, I CAN'T-”  
“ **VARRIC, SHUT THE FUCK UP!!** ”

All Hawke could hear were her own footsteps as she backed away from the door. Silence rang through the stairway, heavy and sore, settling into her heart like a rock. _She'd_ done this. _She_ made her best friends fiancée scream at him just because she's such a jealous bitch that couldn't stop herself from having an ugly, stupid little crush.

“Do you even want to work through this?”

No reply came.

“Well,” came Varric's voice, wavering more than she'd ever heard it, but still surprisingly calm. “Do you actually _want_ to get married!?”

Silence, save for her heart ringing in her ears.

“So let me get this straight; all this time, this _whole_ time I've been working myself to the bone for a wedding that was never going to happen?”  
“I didn't ask you to!”  
“Yes, but you didn't stop me! You didn't tell me it was all for nothing!”  
“I tried to tell you but you weren't even fucking listening to me!”  
“When did you ever say, 'Oh hey Varric, I don't think we should get married! Because I'm _sure_ I'd remember you saying that!”  
“I'd you'd actually put your fucking laptop away for one minute then I probably would have said that!”  
“The reason why I was always on my laptop is because **I thought we needed the money!** ”  
“If you'd fucking-! No, I just- I CAN'T! I _**CAN'T**_ DO THIS ANY MORE!”

Footsteps came from the other side and she managed to leg it out of view just before she came thundering out the door.

“That's it, run away!” Varric yelled. “Let's not sit down and talk about this like adults, oh no!”  
“I'm just doing what you did every single fucking time I tried to talk to you!” She stopped for a moment, listening to the sound of Hawke's footsteps and shallow breaths echoing in the tall space of the stairwell. “Who the **fuck** is that!? Who the _**fuck's**_ been listening in!?”

Terrified. Fucking terrified, she slammed down the stairs as fast as her legs would let her, well aware that one little slip would spell the end of her. But she made it, flung open the door, ran to the nearest alleyway and crouched behind a bin, covering her mouth to stop the heavy breaths.

Bianca followed a few moments later, but instead of chasing after her, struggling to stand against her heavy sobs. It was _torture_. How could she get so caught up in all of this that she forgot Bianca was a real person? And there was the slap in the face, the reminder that Siv was right all along; she really _was_ a horrible person.

But at least the world was punishing her for it, having to listen to the love of her best friend's life break down because she'd provoked her to breaking point. Bianca may not have deserved to be wailing her heart out, but Hawke certainly deserved to hear it.

Wow, what a shitty disgrace of a person.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woweeeee it's only been like a month since I've updated this but it feels like a lifetime. I'm working again which means yay, money! But also boooo, less time for writing. I've also started writing a novel so that doesn't help with how frequently I'm going to be able to update this, but I'm doing my best!  
> As always I'm so grateful for all the support! Thank you so much for reading <3


	10. Chapter 10

Why did Hawke feel the need to do a disappearing act?

Up until she'd turned up at his door unannounced wearing that fake smile that was becoming annoyingly common, he was convinced he wasn't going to see her for at least a few days, maybe even a week or two. Something in his gut had told him that she may have even missed Wicked Grace, but he told himself it was just his anxiety talking, she'd never missed a night yet. So he ignored it and got on with the preparations in hand.

Okay, so he'd already bought some cider, beer, the ingredients for nachos and the nachos were already in the oven. A replacement deck was already out as he still couldn't find the angel of death card for his favourite set, much to Rivaini's insistence she hadn't lost it. Everything was ready in time for the gang coming, just like always. They filled in, but Hawke's seat sat empty, even as eight o'clock came and went, no-one really wanting to point out the fact they were missing a group member. And fuck, this beer was doing nothing to calm his nerves.

She _was_ coming, wasn't she?

 _How long will you be?_ He messaged her. _We don't want to start without you.  
_ The reply came only moments later _. I can't make it. Feeling shit._

Oh. The reality seemed to hit harder than he expected. He'd really fucked up, hadn't he? She'd been off that whole time, he should have seen it, he shouldn't have pushed her into talking, or having sex, or anything. Maker, why couldn't he have just kept his mouth shut?

“Did she get back to you?”  
“What? Oh, Hawke?” Aveline gave him a concerned look. “Yeah, she can't make it.”  
“I hope she's okay!” Merrill quipped.

His fingers hovered over the buttons on his phone, unable to even string words together in some sort of a reply, resisting every urge to ask her what he did wrong, knowing one small question would give way to a flood.

_Okay. Hope you feel better soon.  
(seen 8.12PM)_

  
  


The next few weeks were a drag of working, sleeping, drinking and writing, always waiting for something to happen. Just... waiting. They'd message occasionally, she'd reply when he'd ask a question so at least he knew she was still alive, but she stopped sending him jokes or memes, stopped messaging first and stopped coming over. Sure, Wicked Grace nights went on as usual. The others remarked that they hadn't seen her much, apart from Rivaini, so at least he wasn't the only one being avoided, but that made him feel worse; he'd made her avoid everyone, hadn't he?

No, no. That was stupid. He hadn't done anything _that_ bad, right? Well, it's not like he could even answer that question or any of the questions swirling around his mind, numbed with only the right amount of alcohol, that happened to be more than he liked to drink in pleasant company. So he spent most of the game nights just waiting for the group to leave so he could drown his sorrows or just fall into the nothingness of sleep.

By the third week he was ready to tear his hair out. They were best friends and he knew she wouldn't throw away their friendship for some stupid reason. Surely she'd had enough time to cool down and talk about it by now? Well, maybe not talk about it, but just to let her know... he didn't even know what. It took him that long to think of an excuse, a reason good enough to tempt her over, just to see her, make sure she was okay.

 _Hey, you know how you know stuff about electronics?_  
Uh, a bit. Why?  
My TV isn't working, think you could maybe take a look at it?  
(Seen 12.24)

No reply. Even an hour later, no reply. It took all of his will not to plead with her. By 5 o'clock, it seemed like he was set for another night of-

Until his phone buzzed.

 _What's wrong with it?_  
It just won't turn on, I don't know what's happened to it.  
I guess I could come round after work.  
Thanks :) I'll get you a drink or two at the Hanged Man as thanks.  
No need. I can't stay too long anyway.

She couldn't even say yes to a drink at the Hanged Man? Well, she was coming, at least. She _said_ she was, but he sat on edge until the buzzer went, a little later than her usual predictable time, but better late than never.

He couldn't help the stupid grin spreading on his face as he opened the door to see her. No fake smile this time, her lip curled up for a moment, but she looked as worn out as he felt.

“Right,” She sighed, rummaging about in her bag. “I managed to find some of my stuff from when I was a handyman so I should be able to fix it if it's a hardware problem. Unless it needs new parts.”  
“I just don't know what I've done to it and I have no money to get a new one.” He sighed with a frustrated huff he'd practised an embarrassing amount.  
“You're preaching to the choir here.” She smirked, twirling a screwdriver in her hand as if she was about to juggle it. Rather impressive, actually.  
“Thanks for coming over, I know you've been busy.”  
“It's fine.”  
“Want some tea while you do that?”  
“Um... yeah. Thanks.”

She wasted no time in getting started, her head popped behind the side of the TV, only the mop of her hair emerging from the top. He escaped into the kitchen to put the kettle on before she realised-

“Varric?”  
“Yeah?”   
“You _do_ know your TV isn't even plugged in, right?”  
“Is that so?” He couldn't quite conceal the smirk on his lips, dropping the tea bag into his biggest mug, picking the kettle up the moment it boiled.  
“And it's working just fine now that I've plugged it in.”  
“You must be some sort of TV wizard!” She shot him a look as she shoved her things back into the bag. “Your tea is ready, you may as well stay-”  
“I'm pretty busy.”  
“I'd hate to waste it, you know I don't even drink the stuff.”  
Her nose crinkled at that, he wouldn't have caught it if he hadn't looked for it. “Fine.”  
Maker, he had really planned this, hadn't he? He passed it to her and motioned for her to sit down. Her eyes darted to the ajar window for a second, or maybe he imagined it. Nevertheless, she sank into the sofa, collapsed in on herself, staring blankly at the newly 'fixed' TV as if having a sombre monologue going through her head. But then again, that's something _he_ would do.

“Long day?” He asked.  
“Huh?”  
“Long day?”  
“Long, yeah.”  
“Hard?”  
“Yeah.”

The fact that she didn't even notice one of her favourite innuendos was enough to set alarms ringing. She didn't even bother looking at him, just downed her boiling tea as fast as she could.  
“So-”  
“Well if that's everything then I think I should be off,” The mug was cast aside, face as bitter as the remaining tea within.  
“Stay!” He blurted before he even knew it. She couldn't go _yet_ , he'd tried almost every trick in the book already! “I mean, there's left over lasagna if you want any.”  
She pursed her lips into a fine line, only making eye contact with her tea. “I'm not hungry.”

Bullshit. That was code for 'I'd rather subside only on tea and cigarettes as some twisted form of self punishment'. Hadn't she grown out of that years ago? Oh well, he was never one to shy away from a challenge.

“Chicken nuggets?”  
“Naah.”  
“Pie?”  
“I'm honestly not hungry.”  
“A drink then? Wine? Cider?”  
She wavered at that, but ultimately shook her head. “I need a cigarette anyway.”  
Way to confirm his theory, Hawke. He only had one more avenue to try. “Doesn't Rivaini say that smoking is always better after sex?”  
Her shoulders squared at that, her tone suddenly pointed. “I already told you I can't stay long. And anyway, you seem to have a problem with me loving and leaving you, even though that's _basically_ what we agreed on.”  
Oh shit, he'd hit a nerve. “Ignore what I said last time, I was talking shit.”  
She narrowed her eyes. “Really?”  
“I'd had a long day too, I shouldn't have said any of that shit.” She was finally looking him straight in the eye. “I'm sorry.”  
“Yeah, I'm... I'm sorry too. I should have just spoke to you about it...”

She knocked back the rest of her tea, spluttering when the teabag hit her in the face. A chuckle flew out before he could stop it at the sight of her wiping her face on her sleeve, trying and failing to stop the smirk on her lips. “Okay, that wasn't my finest moment.”  
“Elegant as always.”  
“I think that woke me up more than the tea itself.” The mug was cast aside with a hesitant smile.

He wanted nothing more than to know what that smile was hiding, but no, it wasn't worth the risk. Especially when things had only _just_ been patched up between them. Fuck, when had their friendship become so closed off?

“I guess I have time to stay a little longer.” She checked the time on her phone. “But I'm not really in the mood for a romp tonight though.”  
“That's fine.” He reached for the remote. “Are you maybe in the mood to watch some more Dragon Wranglers?”  
“I guess I have time for _one_ episode. Not nine like last time.”  
“That show sure is addictive. You sure I can't get you anything?”  
“Any cider?”  
Oh, of _course_ he had cider and for this exact reason. “Your wish is my command.” She rolled her eyes at that, but it was true; all she had to do was say the word and he'd do it. “I have some popcorn if you want any.”  
“Oh, go on then.”

So with popcorn and drinks through, he flicked through the titles on his TV until he found Dragon Wranglers. Her face lit up as the theme song started, singing away the intro song, nodding her head in time, already pumped to watch it. Even if it was just because of some cheesy TV show, seeing a genuine smile on her face for the first time in a while nearly left him breathless.

Maybe his eagerness to make her happy had more to do with the fluttering feelings he chose to ignore, but for now he was so damned happy to just sit beside her again, popcorn between them and something good on the TV, relieved to know she wasn't running away anywhere. For now, he had his best friend back and that's more than he could have hoped for.

  
  


\- - - - - - - -

 

 

  
  


Fuck, why did his head hurt so much? It couldn't be from drinking, this didn't feel like a hangover. It was more like his eyes were trying to burst out of his skull, raw and crusty. He rolled over onto his side and in the slim streak of light pushing through the curtains, he saw a plethora of used tissues on his nightstand. Had he been crying?

Oh.

Bianca.

She'd upped and left the day before. No warning, leaving nothing more than a jar of Marmite in the cupboard, her engagement ring and a note.

_I'm so sorry, Varric. I can't do it._

She couldn't do it. She couldn't be with him any more. Why? _Why_? The answerless question clawed at him, tearing at the hollow space inside of him, snagging once again on pain, fresh tears leaking from aching eyes. He'd thought he'd already cried out the last of them, but he should have known that heartbreak wasn't done with him yet. Considering how long he'd been crying last night, it surprised him he'd even slept at all. He curled into a ball and tried to wait out the storm of endless emotions, struggling to even breathe against the heavy sobs. He didn't know whether to cling to the hope that she might change her mind, she might come back, that they could be happy again or to throw it all away, knowing that if that day never came, then it would destroy him more than her betrayal ever had. Because she'd betrayed him, betrayed his trust and ran off... did she run off to be with someone? Had she been seeing someone behind his back? Why did she do it? _Why_?

His stomach ached, and this time not from heartbreak. When was the last time he'd even eaten something? He didn't even know. He had the sudden urge to eat every unhealthy thing in his kitchen, whatever that might be. At least it would be a distraction.

So he sat himself up, dredged the covers off of him and swing his legs off the side of the bed. Eventually he found the energy to stand up and shuffle towards the door, reaching for his dressing gown as he went. Even opining the door seemed like a massive task, but he took it one step at a time. Grabbing the doorknob, turning it, pulling the door open and taking the first step out of the room. Once he found himself in the hallway, he took a moment to let his aching eyes adjust to blurry pain of the light. Why could he hear noise in the living room? Was there someone there?

“Varric, are you up?”

Oh right. Hawke had stayed over to look after him, which was much more than he deserved. But he fought to breathe against the emotion tearing him up inside and shuffled through to the living room.

“How are you feeling?” He didn't even want to look at her because he knew the pained expression she wore.  
His reply was little more than a hoarse croak that even he couldn't hear, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “I'm okay. Did you sleep well?”  
“I was out like a light.”  
“That's good.” At least she wouldn't have heard him crying then. “Can I get you anything?”  
“Maker's breath, sit down! _I_ should be the one looking after you!” In one swift move she leapt to her feet and pushed him backwards, falling onto the sofa before he knew what was happening. “What do you want?”   
“I... don't know.” His mind was too much of an empty mess to even think.  
“Coffee? Food? Maybe some water?”   
“Water.”  
“Water.” She echoed, speeding into the kitchen, back with a glass before he could even blink. “Do you want to watch anything?”  
He paused to consider, but shook his head.  
“Do you want the radio on? No? Uh... do you want to talk?”  
“I just want to sit.”  
“Okay.” She slunk down beside him, staring awkwardly at her hands.

He used to sit with Bianca here, almost every evening. They used to have weekly movie nights, cuddled up together with popcorn, ecstatic just to be with her... whatever happened to those? But that wasn't going to happen again anyway, the realisation making him crumble, tears welling up his dry, aching eyes.

“Varric?” She sighed, rubbing at his shoulder as her voice wavered. “You're going to set me off.”  
“I'm sorry. I'm...” He shook his head, forcing his chest into steadier breaths, wiping his eyes as he uncovered them, hands shaking. Hawke's head turned away, a hand following suit.  
“Varric.” She breathed. “I'm so sorry.”  
“Why are you sorry, this isn't your fault!”  
“Oh, Varric.” She tilted her head back as if that would stop the tears, shoulders shaking silently.  
“Maybe we _should_ watch something.”  
She nodded and silently went for the remote to give to him. He turned it on and kept it on whatever he was watching last. The true crime channel? When had he ever watched that? Oh, it must have been Bianca.  
“You don't need to watch this, you know. I just put it on because I couldn't sleep.”  
Her eyes widened as if she'd said something bad, but she just went back to the show that was on the knife fight fatalities in Alienages across Thedas.  
“Gangs.” He mumbled.

She nodded, mouth opening to say something, but stopped short of making a sound. The show interviewed a member of the gang that called themselves “The Dalish.” Again, she moved to talk, but didn't. The guy began to talk about racial divisions and Hawke finally made a noise, blurting out words a million miles an hour.

“Varric, I know you think that I-”  
A blaring song stopped her in her tracks, a strange buzzing feeling in his leg. Hawke shoved her hand beside it to retrieve her phone.  
“B-Bethany! Hi!” She jumped to her feet and paced the length of the room. “Of course I'm okay! What? I don't sound strange!” Her attempt at a laugh certainly was. “Yeah, I'm at Varric's. Yeah I know, but it was an emergency! Okay, fine. I have to go, I'll speak to you later. Okay. Bye.”

She slunk down beside him and let her phone fall to her lap, running a shaking hand through her hair.

“What were you going to say?”  
“What?”  
“Before Bethany called.”  
“Oh, that? I... forgot actually.”  
“Right. Do you not need to be heading home? I think I've kept you more than long enough.”  
“No, no. I'm here as long as you want me.”  
“I think I maybe want to be alone.”  
“Oh, okay. Are you sure?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Are you _sure_ you're sure?”  
He attempted a smile but it fell flat. “Yeah.”  
“Okay, if you're sure.”

She hesitantly moved to gather her things. She still had her clothes from yesterday on so it didn't take long at all.  
“Are you okay to get back? I could order you a taxi.”  
“No need. I'll probably get the bus.”

Before he knew it, her bag was flung over her shoulder.

“I guess I'm off now.”  
He nodded, “I'll see you to the door.”

He got up and shuffled behind her to the door, each step a marathon.

“...Okay?” She looked at him expectantly. She hadn't been speaking, had she?  
“Huh?”  
“I said, that chicken pie needs to be eaten by today or it'll be out of date.”  
“Right.”  
“And let me know how you are.”  
“Sure.”  
“And Varric?” She put a hand on his shoulder, a smile so stretched it could snap, her eyes so close to leaking. “You're going to get through this, okay. Trust me.”  
“Thanks.” At least someone believed in him.  
“You take care of yourself, okay?”  
“Yeah.”  
“And call me any time. Absolutely any time. You need anything, give me a call, okay?”  
“Okay.”  
“Good.” With one last squeeze of his shoulder, she let go and slid into the hallway. “See you later.”  
“Bye.”  
“Goodbye!” And with that he shut the door.

And just like that, he was alone. No more Bianca. No more Hawke. Just him and his emotions, his thoughts, his regrets already pouring in with nothing to hold them back. Tears bubbled up for what felt like the millionth time that day and now he had nothing to stop them flowing over, nothing to cling on to as he fell into a pit of darkness. Before he knew it, the floor moved towards him and his head fell to his hands. Sobs choked him, tears blinded him and darkness engulfed him. He believed in the future they'd painted together, of trips, of gifts and promises and now it had crumbled and he had nothing to hold on to.

  
  


Time turned into an infinite limbo, no longer awake in the day and sleeping at night. Instead he stayed awake until he couldn't physically keep his eyes open and wake up to find full days vanished into a void as empty as him. He didn't want to bother Hawke with his whining, but that didn't stop her from turning up every few days with necessities. Most of the time it was with no warning because he hadn't even thought to look at his phone, trying to forget the endless hours of searching, endlessly searching for some proof of her online, of something, _anything_ that could tell him where in Thedas she could be. Of course, he found nothing. Whether or not he could face his phone, Hawke always messaged him at the same times each day in the morning, afternoon and evening to remind him to eat.

Once he was feeling a bit less fragile, they would venture to the Hanged Man for a drink and cards about once a week, even if he wasn't always quite up for it. It was good to see something other than the grey painted walls of his flat, but every moment of it he wished he was back home where he wouldn't have to escape to the bathroom to cry.

All too soon, he was thrown back into the real world, whether he liked it or not. The money he'd saved for the wedding didn't last forever so he knew he'd have to get back into writing somehow. He turned to alcohol to quieten his brain, but it left him either writing nonsense or things so personal he couldn't even believe he'd written them. The writing did at least give him a purpose and he did what he could to get back into it, caring more and more about the quality of what he put out, finding a rhythm that kept him going through the week days, even if it seemed to disappear every weekend. Maybe it didn't seem like it some nights, flicking through the photo albums or the pictures on his phone, but Hawke was right. He _was_ going to get through it. He was going to be okay.

Maybe just not yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaaarrrriiiiccccc 


	11. Chapter 11

So it seemed things with Varric seemed to be back to normal. Mostly. Except she now had to ignore her stupid maker-forsaken feelings, but it's not like she hadn't already been doing that for years now. Anyway, she had more important things to focus on, like helping Aveline with her wedding planning. Maker, she didn't envy Aveline and Donnic and all the work they were having to do, although it seemed Donnic was taking a step back and letting Aveline organise how she wanted it. Smart guy. The dress had been bought and altered, flowers booked and paid for, wedding band booked, they just needed a deposit, DJ organised and now onto one of the last things in the list. Today was the day she'd try on her dress for the wedding.

The wedding entourage had gathered inside the bridal shop; bridesmaids Isabela and Merrill, man of honour Varric and Hawke herself who had somehow found herself in the position of maid of honour. How Aveline thought her responsible enough, she'd never know.With the help of the shop assistant, Aveline brought out a rail of swishy copper coloured dresses and handing them out. Only Hawke knew she'd chosen them to match the copper sash embroidered with marigolds to tie around her wedding dress, the details of the dress a closely guarded secret. Only one dress remained, no surprise who it was for.

“I take it Bethany couldn't make it?” Aveline asked.  
“Yeah, she was busy.”

Truth was she hadn't even responded to her texts and her attempt to phone her had immediately gone to voicemail. Even Carver had done the same. If she didn't know better she would have said they were planning something sinister.

“Right,” Aveline clapped her hands together and Hawke did her best to blink herself out of the daze. “Go try them on and let me know how you get on.”

Ugh Maker, even the walls in the changing room were sprawled with romantic quotes and lyrics. There was no getting away from it, was there?. She wiggled into the dress and pulled it up, inspecting the fabric, smoothing it down. Oh, there was a hole in the fabric? Wait, it couldn't be...

“It has pockets!?” She screeched.  
Isabela audibly gasped to her left. “Pockets!”  
“I thought you'd appreciate that.” Aveline replied. “Does it fit okay?”  
“I think so, I'll need help zipping it up though.”  
“Give me a moment, I need to help Merrill first.”  
“I can help, Hawke.” Varric answered. “Are you covered enough for me to come in?”  
“Yeah, go for it.”

The curtain slid back and Varric appeared from behind, dressed in a dashing three piece suit of black, white and copper trimmings, complete with bow tie... fuck. He was just far too handsome for his own good. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. Shit he must have noticed her staring! But wait, she was allowed to oggle him, it was all okay.

“You look really good, Hawke.”  
“Don't I always?” She tried to hide the heat creeping up her cheeks. “You look good too, that outfit _suits_ you.”  
He snorted and shook his head at the bad pun, adjusting his waistcoat maybe a little self conciously. “Well, I hope so. I wasn't sure about the colour at first, but I'll trust your judgement.”

They felt silent as she felt his hands at her back, tickling her skin as he pulled the fabric together, the zip cool against her back as it slid its way up, stopping just shy of her shoulder blades, but he didn't pull away. He lingered instead, his face now an alluringly roguish smile, reflected in the mirror before her as his fingers continued higher to the nape of her neck. She had to bite her lip to stop a moan coming out. It was more than a little tempting to spin around and share a secret kiss. Well, how could she resist when he was so finely dressed? Surely he felt a little stifled in that buttoned up shirt, surely he wouldn't mind it if she used that bowtie to pull him in for a kiss, the others none the wiser if her fingers curled into his slicked back hair, pulling the tie out, fumbling at the buttons of his waistcoat.

Wait, this was what he would've worn for his wedding, wasn't it? Not the copper, he'd planned on wearing red and gold; a good choice if you asked her. Well, he would have worn it if she hadn't been such an idiot and kept her bloody mouth shut. Bianca wouldn't have ran away if she hadn't pushed her, if she'd ignored her jealousy and not stuck her nose into _their_ relationship. No, she couldn't look at him any more, so her eyes trailed to a random quote on the wall.

“ _We’re all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness—and call it love—true love.”_

Fuck no, that wasn't helping. He was watching her, eyes crinkled in a soft happiness, but it was fading to confusion. Surely he could hear how loudly her heart was hammering? So instead of giving into temptation, she stepped away from him and cleared her throat, rummaging for her phone as something to do. “Thanks.”  
“No problem.”

It was only when the curtain slid closed again that she could breathe. In and out, in and out. She gave herself a long moment or two to collect her thoughts and remind herself she wasn't a cry-baby, despite the tears that seemed to fall so much more easily recently. It was pathetic, sobbing away in a pretty dress, pining over a guy she could never have, never be good enough for, never make as happy as he deserved to be. Remember that time when she couldn't cry and she was just some emotionally constipated zombie? Aah yes, good times. But there was no use moping so once her face was less red and puffy, she pulled the curtain away with a flourish as if a crowd was behind. Instead, there was only Merrill and Aveline.

“Oh, Hawke!” Merrill sang. “You look so pretty!”  
“Oh, thank goodness yours fits too.” She sighed, ticking off the list on her phone. “Now, you can all pick your own shoes, but for the love of the Maker, _please_ don't wear any boots or trainers. Oh and Isabela?”  
“Yeah?” Her head appeared from behind the curtain.  
“Please wear shoes you can _actually_ walk in.”  
“Don't you worry. I've got some nice ones in mind.”

While the others were distracted, she spun around, letting the floaty material swish around her. Okay, maybe _now_ she could see the appeal of swishy dresses, not that she'd ever wear one out of choice. Maker, if she was born a few hundred years ago, she wouldn't have made a good noble at all. She couldn't help herself from shoving her hands in her pockets. Why was clothing always a hundred percent more comfortable when it had pockets?

Sparkles caught her eye across the room so she took a look at the jewels on display, sparkling brightly behind the glass of the display cabinet. Tiaras and necklaces, bracelets and earrings. Were they actual jewels though, or just pretty pieces of cut glass?

“They're so pretty.” Merrill sighed wistfully, gazing through the glass with wonder. “What would you get, Hawke?”  
“I don't know.” She muttered. “I'm not getting married so it doesn't really matter.”  
“Isn't it fun to imagine? It's nice to have an idea for if the day comes.”  
“No, I mean I'm _never_ getting married.”  
“You're not?”  
“I don't really think it would work out for me. I'd rather be free as a bird, a _Hawke_.” No way did she ever want to have anyone else's name anyway.  
“I think if you maybe met the right person then you might change your mind.”  
She sighed out the frustration through her teeth. Of _course_ Merrill didn't mean to cause offence, but so many people had said those exact words to her that she couldn't help it. “Yeah well, people say that about cats but I'm yet to be convinced.”

Anyway, she was much too fucked up to even be in a relationship, let alone get _married,_ especially after her last dismal attempt at a relationship. “Once a cheater, always a cheater” isn't that what they say? You wouldn't find that quote scrawled across the walls thought. The sparkle of the gems only grew brighter, blurring so much she could barely see anything else, so she took a step back, but it didn't help.

“Well, we know the dress fits so I should probably take it off so I don't ruin it.” She kept her voice controlled and level, lest it betray her by cracking.  
“Need any help getting it off?” She could hear Varric ask innocently enough.  
“Getting the dress off or getting _her_ off?” Isabela laughed.  
“I- No, I'll be fine. Thanks.”

If he knew what she'd done, he wouldn't have offered, he probably wouldn't even want to know her. But turning down the offer of help probably wasn't the wisest thing to do considering she had to almost dislocate her whole arm to reach the zip, but she somehow managed to get it off, hang it back on the hanger and slide back into her usual, comfortable attire. Yes, much better.

She'd barely stepped out of the changing room when Aveline pulled her aside, away from the others. “What did I do now?” Hawke sighed.  
“I just wanted to thank you for coming over to help me with the flowers.”  
“Oh right. Yeah, it's no bother.” Oh shit, Varric was back and in his usual clothes. “I'll be back in a minute, I just need a smoke.”  
“Again? You promised me you weren't going to get addicted.”  
Shit, did she? Was she drunk at the time? “Yeah, well I'm not...” She shrugged, rummaging in her pocket. “Not in theory.”  
She lowered her voice. “You seem pretty anxious, are you okay?”  
“I should be the one asking _you_ if you're okay! _You're_ the one getting married.”  
“Come to think of it, you haven't come to Wicked Grace in weeks.”  
“I just haven't managed to get the time off work, but I'll be there this week though. You don't need to go looking for a crisis to solve so you don't have to deal with your own ones.”  
“ _Hawke._ ” Oh, Aveline knew that tone would stop her in her tracks and she used it sparingly.   
“I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm just-” She needed to think of something and fast to get her off her back. “It's just stressful being a maid of honour. I don't even know if you'll like your hen party surprise.”  
“As long as it doesn't involve anything as tacky strippers-”  
“But I just ordered out half of the Blooming Rose!”  
“Oh _Hawke,_ you know most of those companies are a front for the Coterie. _”_  
“I'm kidding Aveline, don't stress yourself.” She located her cigs and a lighter from the depths of her pockets. “I'll see you in a few minutes.”

Andraste's ass, all this talk of love and marriage was enough to make her sick. It was lovely, really lovely that one of her best friends was getting married, but seeing Varric in that suit, knowing full well that _she_ was the reason why he never got to wear one to his own wedding, to speak romantic words to the person he loved, the reason why he spent months in a hole so deep she'd worried herself half to death not knowing whether he'd make it out of it. Her phone buzzed, but she ignored it, instead kicking a crumpled, dejected can lying near her feet, the distant clattering of metal only making her feel marginally better.

She couldn't keep thinking about this shit though or she would actually be sick. Think happy thoughts, like... a mabari playing in a field of flowers or a dragon soaring high above or what it felt like to lie in Varric's arms and pretend that she actually deserved him, that he could speak soft, loving words to her and mean it... Fuck, that wasn't helping either. A rogue tear slipped down her face before she could stop it so she stormed around the corner and into some disgusting alleyway. Ugh, what was it with her and crying in alleyways? Pathetic.

She whipped out her phone to see if that could distract her. Oh, she had a text from Aveline. She snorted despite herself at her friend's bad texting abilities. Maker, she wasn't even drunk and she couldn't text properly?

 _I don't know w.Here you've gone but we;re all going for drinks at the Hanged Mar_  
Mam  
Man  
Will we see you there.?

She hovered for a moment, hesitating, but she already knew what the answer would be.

_Sure. Be there in a bit._

  
  


When she eventually made her way to the table that her friends inhabited, there looked to be at least two rounds already gone. Just her luck to miss out on free alcohol. Well, at least there was nachos on the table.

“Hawke! I was beginning to wonder if you were coming at all.” Varric moved an arm to about to pull out the chair beside him so she quickly slid in beside Merrill instead. “I got a round so I had to assume what you'd want.” He slid over a cider. Great, now she felt even worse. But no, she wasn't going to think about that.  
“Thanks.” She smiled in reply, using the drink to avoid his gaze.  
“So Aveline,” She asked, “Any progress with the speech?”  
Her teeth grit in frustration. “Please don't remind me.”  
“Can I be of any help?” Varric asked because of course he would.  
“Could you? I didn't want to ask in case you were busy.”  
“Oh no, of course not! Just send me what you have and I'll have a look through it tomorrow.”  
“Varric, you're a lifesaver.”  
“Don't mention it.” He smiled. “Are you going to be doing a speech, Hawke?”  
“I don't think it would be best.”  
“I'm sure if Varric helped you with it then it could turn out alright.” Aveline noted. Oh, like fuck was she talking about shit like that with him.  
“It's fine. You know me, I'm not good at public speaking, Avo.” Whether her brow wrinkled from the blatant lie or the nickname, she wasn't sure.  
“Well, if you change your mind then the offer's still there.”

Was Varric taking something out of his pocket? Curiosity got the better of her and she hazard a glance in his direction. Predictable as always, it was a Wicked Grace set. Without it needing to be mentioned, everyone's hands were dealt and the game began with throwing in bets. This was the only reason why she kept change in her pockets, old habits die hard.

“I hope Bethany's dress will fit her.” Aveline sighed, her mind still very much in wedding mode. “Do you think you could get her to try it on?”  
“Sure.”

Maybe she could hang it on the doorhandle with a note and hope that she'd do it for Aveline's sake. It was the best she could do when she hadn't even seen her own sister in ages. Now that she thought of it, when _was_ the last time she'd seen her? She'd bumped into Carver in the kitchen the other day, offering nothing more than a grunt in acknowledgement, but to be fair, that was as much as she usually got. It had been a good few weeks since she'd seen Bethany though... maybe even a month? Good thing she was already drinking away her guilt tonight.

“Anyone up for shots?”

  
  


Before they knew it, the late afternoon bled into evening and the group left one by one. Isabela was off to Chainz, Merrill to water her plants and Aveline needed a lie down. Not that she'd said, but the fact she was rubbing her forehead every other minute was telling enough. So now it was just her and him.

By this point enough cheap liquor had been poured down her throat that she no longer needed to avoid Varric's line of sight, which was good considering the nature of Wicked Grace and having to read your opponent and all, but they'd been playing for hours now, the world numb, tingling fingers holding her hand of cards. Dare she think it, she was actually bored of it.

“You know, there's a pool table over there.” She noted.  
“No shit.” He snorted in sarcasm. “Up for a game?”  
“Only if you're ready to get your arse destroyed.”  
“I hate to disappoint, but pegging isn't really my thing.”  
Her drink spurted half way across the table. “Andraste's flaming armpit sweat!” She choked, following him to the empty table. He took great pride in setting up the first shot. “Ladies first.” He insisted, stepping up on the platform, the overhead light casting mysterious shadows across his face.

She swallowed her heart down with a sip of vodka and coke, aimed her que and did her best to thrust it in a straight line, the white ball colliding with the side of the que and rolling awkwardly to the side, so she tried again. Maker, what was with her luck today? She tried one more time and finally, it struck as it was supposed to. “Third time lucky.”  
He set up for his first shot and got a ball in the hole first time. Oh, of course he was good at this. Why wouldn't he be? “I didn't know you liked pool.”  
“I haven't played it in a long time.” Maybe if she wasn't so worried about ruining the mood then she would have said who she last played pool with. An old memory threatened to come back of the famailiar clicking of balls, a proud smile from behind a dark, shaggy beard when she managed to pot one.

But no, p;tonight was a night for repressing emotions, not remembering people taken from this world and from her without good reason. Alcohol, more alcohol was the answer. You couldn't think about that shit if you were wasted anyway, so she obviously wasn't wasted enough yet.

“Aveline was saying you're getting stressed about the wedding.” Oh great. “Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?”  
“Actually, maybe you'd know. What would Aveline like for her hen night? I thought about having drinks here, but we do it so often it wouldn't exactly be the most exciting thing.”  
“What about a weekend away somewhere relaxing? The poor woman looks like she needs a break from it all.”  
“What, like a spa?”  
“That could work.”  
“Varric, you genius!” She took another shot, actually managing to pot a ball.  
“She certainly made a good choice with those dresses, though. It really suited you.”  
“I still can't get over the fact they have pockets. _Pockets_!”  
“I hope I can get the pleasure of unzipping that dress off you at some point.”  
“Well, if you're lucky then you might just get the chance.”

She let her eyes wander, licking her lips with anticipation. He took the moment of distraction to pot a ball, but that wasn't getting past her.

“Fuck you.” She smirked, jabbing him with the queue.  
“You can if you want.” He winked without missing a beat.  
Her eyes met his square on, probably for the first time that night. “Maybe I do.”  
“If we leave before the game is over then it'll have to be forfeit.”  
“Then so be it.” She scrambled to shove all the balls into the nearest hole as quickly as she could, clattering back into the mechanism of the table until none remained. “There. Done. You win. Happy now?”  
The grin on his face was all the answer she needed.

  
  


Like so many times before, they were on each other before the door even had time to close properly, a tangled mess of hands and fingers, exploring each other with tongues and teeth once the door had clicked locked, wasting no time in pulling each other onto the bed. His touch was soft and slow, but that wasn't what she needed right now. His hand brushed against her face and he leaned in to kiss her, but something somewhere inside of her snapped her head away. Maker's breath, this wasn't happening again, was it? Fuck it all! Crying during sex made it nowhere near as enjoyable. Maybe if she just pretended it wasn't Varric she was bonking right now then she could stop the tears before they could start. Instead he could be... some guy from chainz. Not as appealing, but easier.

His groan was amazing as she slid herself down his thick length, his hands at her waist trying to slow her down, but like hell was she doing that. He reached a hand to her face and she shoved it to her breast. Yes, much better. She couldn't take it, how it felt to have his gentle hands wandering her body, not content just to fuck her hard. He mouthed at her collarbone, soft moans pouring out of her as she thrust him in and out, gaining speed until she was furiously pushing against him, the whole bed creaking with effort, teeth clenched in exertion, hoping that the harder she pushed, the faster she moved, the sooner it would all be over.

With all the shit she'd put him through, all the tears he'd cried that were her fault, every lonely night after Bianca left, she owed him this much.

As always, she was gone the moment it was done. Wham bam thank you ma'am; that was how she liked it. Now she had the difficult decision of braving the night buses or just walking home. The night was surprisingly quiet due to the rain pelting down, but she had a jacket and a quiet love of petrichor so she figured a night time walk would be nice. Maybe she should let Bethany know she was on her way home in case she was worried. She probably wasn't. Her sister probably didn't even care any more. Fuck, drinking her emotions away only helped when she could ignore them completely. Her pathetic sniffling was interrupted by the buzz of her phone. A message request? From who?

Oh no.

 _Hawke._  
I know you'll probably delete this, but I want to tell you I forgive you.  
I miss you like hell.  
I miss you so much it hurts. I don't know why I ever let you go. I just let my anger get the better of me. We had so many good times together, why throw them all away for some stupid argument?  
You can try to find someone else, I tried to too, but no-one will ever understand us like each other. It was always us against the world, why did we ever let the world tear us apart?

There was more, much more that she didn't have the stomach for, words cascading down the screen as she scrolled, doing her best not to throw up. No, this wasn't happening, was it? Was she dreaming, passed out in a gutter, so drunk she can't get herself home? She could only pray. A car sped past, crashing through a puddle and soaking her head to toe, more water dripping from her lashes than from the sky itself, the bite of the chill a sobering reminder that yes, she _was_ awake, this was no nightmare. What did she do to deserve this? Oh, right. Lots of things. And just her luck, she'd drunk the last of her drinks stash last night. Time to visit her second favourite establishment in this city; the 24 hour booze shop.

The shop stunk of booze from a few hundred metres away, but it really punched you in the nose when you opened the door. Hawke was greeted by an electronic beep to alert the staff someone had come in, but the dwarf behind the counter didn't even bother looking up, his head resting on his fist, eyes closed... oh, he was asleep. She only had a few silvers so she couldn't really buy much; damn inflation. Luckily she had enough for two bottles of the cheapest vodka available. Tonight wasn't a night for airs and graces.

“Hey.” She called, placing the bottles on the counter with a clunk. “Hey, Ogren? It's Ogren, isn't it?”  
“What the-!” He snatched the bottles from her. “ You blasted nug-humper! I'll teach you to steal from Ogren, I'll get the shleets after you!”  
“I wouldn't have brought them up to the counter if I was trying to steal them. Or woke you up for that matter.”  
“You're lucky I recognise you.” He narrowed his eyes, but reluctantly placed them back on the counter, taking note of her particularly wet and dishevelled appearance. “Is it raining outside or something?”  
“No, I dumped a bucket of cold water over my head for fun.”  
“You humans and your weird... humanisms.”

He closed an eye, stabbing numbers into the till, doing his best to try not to appear quite so intoxicated. No surprise, it didn't work. It took five tries to get the amount right on the till and he dropped her money multiple times. She was relieved when she was finally given the right change, picking up the plastic bag threatening to break under the weight of two heavy bottles.  
“See you later.”  
She only got a tired grumble in reply, but she didn't mind. She had her booze.

The flat was cold and dark when she returned. She was tempted to knock on a door to see if the twins were in or if she was as alone as she felt, but judging by the time she'd probably get a punch in the face if she woke them up right now. Best to leave them alone, Maker knows she'd already done enough to ruin their relationship.

The first swig of vodka stung like hell, even with all the alcohol she'd already drunk, but the walk home and splash of water had sobered her up an annoying amount. The second swig was just as bad, but they got easier after that. Keeping straight vodka down was never easy, but it was a skill she'd mastered long ago. After the sixth swig, standing up was too much of a chore, so she let herself slide down the side of her bed, swaying as she crumpled in on herself. By the time she fell over and left herself lying on the floor, the world swirling around her, she'd long since stopped counting.

She didn't even know when she finally closed her eyes, but Siv was there when she slept, no matter how much she drunk. Imagination a sinister thing, dragging up old memories and twisting them until she couldn't tell what had actually happened. Which kisses had been real, which words were fabricated, which touches, caresses, punches had really happened. In the end it didn't matter, the dreams still tore at her, vicious and unrelenting until she woke in cold sweat, fighting against the clenching of her chest to breathe, staring at the moving lines of orange light scribbling over the ceiling.

Oh, she must have left the window open from smoking. A freezing wind blew in, curtains slapping viscously against the window, streams of daylight doing its best to break through the gaps. The light crushed at her skull, the pain so intense every time she tried to move that she considered leaving it open, but eventually she somehow struggled to her feet, slammed it shut, threw the curtains closed and took in the deafening silence and engulfing darkness. She threw herself onto her bed, wrapping her arms around herself to stave off the chill.

If only she had someone other than burning liquid to soothe her back to sleep.

Maybe if she was sober enough to find her phone she would have phoned Varric, but if she was that sober she wouldn't have had the heart. Funny how that happens sometimes.

  
  


  
  


\- - - - - - - -

  
  


  
  


“Varric! You made it!”

She engulfed him in the biggest hug she could manage, taking in the smell of shaving cream and aftershave. How long had it been since he'd smelled like that? She took a look at him, his hair shorter, his smile a lot wider. Dare she think it, he was back to himself again.

“What?” He smiled, worry tugging at the edge of his lips.  
“I'm just so glad to see you!”  
“Yeah, me too. Where are the twins then?”  
“Off to Lothering, visiting Mum, but I've got an exciting surprise for you.”   
“Oh, a surprise?”  
She led him into the living room and took his coat, doing her best to be a good host. “I've been using all my many, vast, amazing cooking skills to make you lasagna!”  
The smile on his face was so adorable, it was hard to not give into the bubbly feeling inside her and laugh. “ _You're_ making lasagna?”  
“It's an attempt at least. And it's taking a hell of a lot longer to make than I thought, so it'll probably be a while. Hence, the breadsticks.”  
“Oh, I thought they were there for decoration.”  
“Two birds with one stone.” She grinned. “Adds to the Antivan feel, does it not?”  
“Well, I brought wine.” What the heck year was that? Maker, that must have cost a fair amount of gold.  
“You... ugh, I get it, I get it. _You're_ the better friend.” She put on the cheekiest smile she could manage she skipped into the kitchen and brought out two glasses as he uncorked the bottle.  
“This is to thank you for everything you've done, looking after me and all. And anyway you're cooking lasagna, I think you win.”   
“Oh, speaking of, I should really get back to it.” And she dashed back into the kitchen, picked up her spatula. When she gave it a stir, a spark of hot fat iediately leapt out the pan and on to her arm. “Shit!”  
“You okay?” Varric was at the doorway in a second.  
“Yeah, yeah. It's all good. I'm just cooking the mince.”  
“That's an awfully high heat.”  
“Yeah, I wanted to power through it because it's so late.”  
He took a peek over the pan. “That looks a little em... burnt”  
“Fuck, I hoped those dark bits were seasoning.”  
“Uh, no. It's still edible, you juat need to turn it down,” He dialled it down himself and lifted the pot, “and cool it a little.”  
“I got it. You can go take a seat if you want.”  
“I'm fine. I prefer the company in here. And I'd rather not see the company accidentally injure themselves.”  
“I'll be fine,” She smirked, chopping an onion, only to have the knife get stuck, “I _have_ cooked _before_ , you know.”  
“Food that only involves opening packets, pouring in boiling water or microwaving doesn't count.”  
“Oh, shut it you.”  
“Careful with that knife, I don't want you losing a finger.”  
“Too late. You know I used to have eleven fingers before I accidentally chopped one off? True story?”  
“Uhuh.” He smirked. “You're going to have nine in a minute if you're not careful.”  
She huffed, readjusting the knife over the onion ready to slice. “You're such a worrier-” Pain oozed through her finger, sharp and burning.  
“Shit, your finger!” Varric cried, pointing to the blood starting to ooze out. “Where's the plasters?”  
“This is nothing, I'll be fine.”  
“As much as I don't mind the burnt bits, I'd have to pass if it contained too much blood.”  
She was about to wave him off and insist she was really fine, but he wasn't exactly going to believe that when the blood was already pooling on the chopping board.  
“I guess I'll go fix up my finger. I'll be a sec.”

Plasters, plasters.... they were in the bathroom cabinet, right? Bingo! The first one didn't stick since it was in the way of her finger bending, but the second worked a treat. Varric greeted her back in kitchen, sliding clean, diced onion into the pot.

“Show off.” She huffed, jabbing a random spoon into his back. Oh shit, there was tomato sauce on that? hopefully he wouldn't notice the attractive red splodge on his back. “It smells good.”  
“I'd like to think I'm a decent cook.”  
She wasn't going to be stupid and bring up the time he made burgers. For the love of the Maker, don't bring that up, Hawke. “Why don't you cook more?”  
“Time, I guess. But I've had plenty of that recently.” He looked around him, as if looking for something. “Have you made any cheese sauce?”  
“I've got a pack of instant mac and cheese and I've taken out the macaroni.”  
He laughed to himself, shaking his head. “You are something else, Hawke. I'm actually really curious how this'll turn out.”

  
  


Many ciders later, the lasagna was finally out the oven and ready to be eaten. It looked edible enough, mostly thanks to him.

“I'll let you have first dibs on it, Hawke.”  
“Is that in case I've accidentally poisoned it?”  
“Ah, and here I was hoping you'd think me a kind person.”  
“Aha, your plan has been foiled!” She handed him a lasagna slicer-thingy and a plate with a grin. “Writers first.”  
He rolled his eyes and took a slab. “It doesn't seem too bad actually.”  
“It even has layers, look at that!” She admired her creation with great joy.  
“I wouldn't be so hasty, you haven't even tried it.” She scraped a bit off with her fork and straight into her mouth. Searing pain soon followed.  
“Oh no, is it really that bad?”  
“No, it's...” She breathed through the burning on her tongue, “delicious but it's just... hot.”  
He blew over it to cool it and took a hesitant bite. “Oh wow, this is actually pretty good.”  
“See!”  
He smiled softly into his plate. “Thanks, Hawke.”  
“You did most of it, Varric.”  
“True, but you're just...” His voice cracked. Oh shit, he wasn't crying again, was he? “Thanks for all this.”  
“There's no need to thank me. Anyway, are we going to eat our dinner standing in the kitchen, or shall we go through and watch something?”  
“Good call.”

The lasagna didn't last long, especially with the fact they were having their dinner almost two hours late. Once they were finished the room fell into a silence that couldn't quite be called comfortable. Should she ask him?

“So um,” she began, “how've you been holding up?”  
“Better, I guess. I don't feel like I'm doing any better, but I had a hot shave and a hair cut. I bought some new clothes the other day, too.”  
“I'm proud of you.”  
“You are?”  
“Of course I am! The last few months can't have been easy for you, I can't even imagine how you must have felt. And yet here you are, still standing, still smiling. Maybe it doesn't feel like it, but you're definitely getting there.” She swallowed against the lump in her throat, a hesitant hand on his shoulder. “You have friends, you have people that care about you. A-and who else will listen to my shitty puns, eh? Who else could make Bethany pay two silvers every week for the Sunday edition of the Kirkwall Times for your weekly analysis and book recommendations?”  
“True...” He sighed.  
“And I think Carver likes it when you come over, he actually pauses his game to speak to you! He wouldn't do that if I died right in front of him.”  
“You're exaggerating.” He laughed weakly.  
“Well I don't exactly want to test the theory. And speaking of, you're completely free to stay over here tonight. You can sleep in my bed or the sofa if you want. Help yourself to absolutely anything, even if it's got a name on it, I can always nip to the shop and get more. Actually, if you want something from the shop, I'll go out and get it. My house is your house. And the twins are away for the whole weekend so you don't have to worry about anyone but yourself. Okay?”  
“Okay.” He grumbled.  
“And no-one can tell you when to get over her. You take all the time you need. I'll be here every step of the way and I'll even give you a kick up the butt when you decide you've had enough sulking.”  
“I'm just... just so happy you're my friend, Hawke. I honestly don't know where I'd be without you.”  
She couldn't respond to that, so instead she held out her arms and he wrapped his arms around her.

Without her, he'd still have Bianca. Without her, he wouldn't have gone through the heartbreak of losing her. But _she'd_ created this mess, all she could do now was whatever she could to put it right.

No-one deserved something like this to happen. Not Varric. Not _him_. He didn't deserve someone who cheated on the only person she truly loved, but someone who would see him as the amazing person he was. Someone that would chose _him_ over everything. Not someone that would just break his heart again and leave him much worse off.

So no, she could never tell him how she felt. He didn't deserve to know. She was happy enough to have him as a friend. How could she complain when he was the best damn friend she'd ever had?

 


	12. Chapter 12

For a change, they decided to meet at the Hanged Man for Wicked Grace this week. He'd told the others his toilet was broken, but really he couldn't be bothered tidying up and cooking, even though he'd had more than enough time to do it. Friday night meant karaoke and if he was lucky, maybe he could get Hawke to sing, maybe convince her with a drink or two. As he approached the table, he realised he wasn't the first there; Fenris gave him a nod as he approached. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he seemed a little cheerier than usual.

“Broody.” He nodded back. “How are you?”  
“Pretty good. You?”  
“Not too bad myself, thanks. I've been looking forward to this all week.”  
“Me too.”  
“So I noticed. Eager to see Blondie, are you?”  
He took a drink of his wine, but a softness caught the edges of his eyes. It was almost infuriating how those two danced around each other but never actually saying anything. But here he was sounding like a hypocrite when he wasn't exactly rushing to admit anything to Hawke. Not right now, anyway.  
“Hey guys!” Isabela cheered, slapping him on the back, out of his thoughts.  
“Fancy seeing you here.” Hawke joked, sliding in beside him, narrowly avoiding her drink going everywhere. He hadn't seen her since the dress fittings last week and it had already felt like a lifetime since they'd spoken, what with her being so shit at responding to messages. But she was here, and that was the main thing.  
“Been busy?” He asked.  
“Oh yeah. Barely had a moment to myself. You know what Bran's like; work work work!” He didn't doubt it, what with the bags lying heavily under her eyes. “What about you?”  
“It's been a bit of a slow week. I've had plenty of time to working on my novel.”  
“Oh, cool.”

Her eyes fell to her lap and her smile faded. He leaned in and sure enough, her phone was there. “Is work still pestering you?”  
“Huh?” She flinched away, shoving her phone away. “Oh, yeah. Work, definitely.” Her hand curled around her drink and within a moment, the glass was empty. “Oh, Avo! Good timing as always.”  
“Hello everyone.” Aveline sighed, taking her place at the table with an exhausted groan, giving them each a nod.  
“Long day?” Varric asked.  
“You don't even want to hear the half of it.”  
“You know, I was just thinking...” Hawke spoke in that tone of voice reserved for her very best and worst of ideas, “...could we play Wicked Grace as a drinking game?”  
Isabela seemed ready to combust. “Hawke, you genius!”  
“Well, I don't see why not.” Varric shrugged his shoulders. “As long as everyone else is up for it.”  
“I'll have some soda then. I've got work tomorrow.” Aveline added. Didn't she usually have Saturdays off?  
“Sorry everyone! So sorry!” Merrill cried, dashing over. “I'm not late am I?”  
“Don't worry Daisy, we wouldn't start without you. Shall I get us all a drink then?” It wasn't really much of a question when he was already waving over Edwina. He shuffled and dealt the cards while they waited for their drinks. This was going to be good.

“So,” Varric began once the drinks were on the table. “who's starting tonight?”  
“I will.” Hawke discarded her first card; she'd chosen rum and coke with a shot of vodka. Varric was next; he'd matched her hideous drink, a good motivation not to loose. Aveline took her turn after, ordering only a lemon soda, then Fenris with his wine, Anders with his candyfloss cocktail, Merrill with her fruity alcopops and finally Isabela with her row of straight rum shots. If this was anyone other than Isabela, he'd worry for her liver, but he'd never seen her lose a game yet.

Hawke was first to lose the round, taking a gulp, shuddering at the awful taste.  
“Better luck next time.” He consoled her.  
“Thanks.” She croaked, her old hand thrown back in to be dealt again.

It wasn't long until Hawke's drink was finished. To be fair, she was taking much bigger drinks than she really needed to. But she seemed distracted tonight, constantly checking her phone. Not long after that she began eyeing up the peanuts. A sly hand picked one up on her way to pick up a card, but that was how it always started. Before long, her hand was bouncing between the bowl and her mouth, shovelling more and more in with each handful.  
“Hungry?” He couldn't fail to notice.  
“Ugh, starving.”  
“Shall we get something to eat?” She certainly needed something to soak some of that drink up so he waved over Norah. “Nachos?”  
“Naah...” She took a look at the menu for once. “I'm in the mood for a burger. Like, a _really_ cheesy burger.”  
“Share some hot wings with me?” Isabela asked.  
Her eyes lit up. “Yeah! And another vodka coke.”  
“Perhaps wait a bit. At least until you've had some food.”  
“I can't play without a drink.”  
“Have a cider then.”  
“Okay, _mother_.” She sighed, her hand already back in the peanuts.  
“How are you enjoying those nuts, Hawke?” Isabela cooed. “Nice? Good?”  
Her nose crinkled. “Huh?”  
A naughty giggle escaped from Isabela that set him right on edge. “Well, that's an awful lot of nuts you can fit in your mouth.”  
Varric had to clear his throat, lest that image pop into his head. Aah shit, too late. Think about the game, Varric. He could feel Isabela's gaze on him. So it seemed she hadn't forgotten about Hawke's drunken rambling a few weeks back. Trust Hawke to get shit-faced and blab everything to Isabela and trust Isabela to believe her nonsense rambling. At least she'd taken the hint to shut up after Anders' birthday, praise the Maker for _that_ miracle. Hawke's eyes darted to his, giving him the most she dared to; a sly smile. Andraste's ass, all this deception was starting to lose it's novelty.

More drinks arrived, ready for the next round. Hawke's hand slipped out once again and he expected her to go for the nuts again, but she stole a shot from Isabela, poured it in her drink under the table and took a sip. Oh, so she was drinking to get wasted tonight. In Hawke code that meant something was eating her alive. He could see it now, the strain of keeping a smile on her face, the exhaustion of pretending everything was fine.

“Are you okay?”  
“Oh yeah, just _fine._ ” She muttered under her breath.  
He blinked. That wasn't exactly the answer he'd expected.  
“That's a rather big hand you've got there.” Isabela smirked, eyes flickering to his cards, all seven of them – two too many. Shit, she'd caught him.  
His roguish grin widened. “Well, you know what they say about big hands.”  
Hawke struggled to keep her drink from spraying everywhere, spluttering inelegantly. Isabela cast a look between them like a cat with the cream.  
“But I thought it was big feet.” Merrill said.  
“Big hands, big feet, either way Varric's covered.”  
“Out of curiosity,” Anders extended his hand out towards Varric, fingers spread, “How do we compare?”  
“Oi oi!” Isabela cheered, slamming her hands on the table, drinks jumping in protest. “Just fucking whap your dicks out, don't you?”  
“Oh, please don't!” Merrill moaned. “I'm trying to eat here, you know!”  
“That's us told.” Anders laughed.  
“Looks like that's the Karaoke ready to go. Anyone up for singing a song or two tonight?” Varric asked, but the group didn't seem convinced. “Hawke?”  
“Maybe.” She pondered, pushing the empty peanut bowl away.  
“Will another drink tempt you?”  
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Damnit, how do you know my one weakness?”  
“Hah, just a lucky guess.”

A crooked smile wormed its way out, more real than anything he'd seen on her face that night, but it was gone the moment she looked at her phone. She tapped at the screen, her mouth a worn line as she chewed at the insides of her mouth, brows furrowing, eyes aflame behind her fringe, fingers moving frantically. Eventually she moved to put it away, but a message pinged through before she could, her eyes darting to the rest of the group as she typed back. Even when her burger arrived she didn't even seem to notice.  
“Nice buns.” He smirked, but not even a chuckle. “What, too cheesy for you?”  
“Hmm...”  
He lowered his voice and leaned in, but she shuffled away. “Is everything okay?”  
“Just _perfect_.” She looked an awful lot like her brother when she pouted like that.  
“I can't wait for your hen night, Aveline.” Isabela smiled.  
“It can't come soon enough.” Aveline sighed.  
Isabela just rolled her eyes. “It's in a week Aveline.”  
“I know, I just need something to take my mind off everything.”`  
“I hope you're ready for your surprise.” Hawke added.  
“I don't know if I'm going to like this.”  
“Trust me,” Varric added, “you will.”  
“Oh, before I forget, have you had a chance to look over my vows yet, Varric?”  
“I've been working on it”  
“Calm down,” Isabela cried. “The wedding isn't for what, three months?”  
“Yes, but it'll be one less thing to think about.”  
“Don't worry, it should be finished soon.” He reassured her. “I've just been waiting for the perfect moment of inspiration. I feel like it's coming.”  
He cast a glance back over to Hawke, not that she noticed. Eventually, she picked at her food with bitten fingernails as the game continued, but so did her sour mood, as much as she tried to hide it behind the fake laughs and endless drinks. That seemed a much more common theme nowadays. In fact, when was the last time he'd spent time with her without her pouring drinks down her throat? She kept twirling a silver coin in her fingers, brows furrowed as if she was thinking deeply about the game, but when the game ended, she still stared blankly at her hand.

“Hawke?” He nudged her.  
“Huh?”  
“Angel of Death.”  
“Oh, right.” She threw her cards down and reached for her already empty glass.  
“Shit, you had four angels?”  
“Yeah.”  
“I wondered where they were. You've won the round.”  
“Oh.” She pulled her winnings towards her and shoved them back into the middle as soon as the new round began.  
“What's up, sweetie?” Isabela purred, leaning a head on her shoulder, winding an arm around her neck and yet Hawke didn't even flinch. “Wait, is that...?” Isabela grabbed at her phone before she could help it and Varric – who definitely hadn't been trying to look – couldn't see the screen at all. “ _She's_ been messaging you?”  
“Not now, Iz.” She uttered, her eyes flickering to the rest of the group who couldn't help but look at the scene.  
“ _Please_ don't tell me you've messaged her back.” Hawke was silent, an answer if ever she gave one. “No, you said you wouldn't, you _promised_ me-”  
“One sec, guys.” She scrabbled for a cigarette and a lighter, dashing out the door and Isabela gave chase.

The table fell silent. Well, that was... unexpected. Even if she had been bothered about finishing this game, Hawke left half her cards the wrong way up so her hand was useless anyway. He busied himself putting all the cards back together and shuffling them, ready for the next round. “Shall I maybe get us some drinks?” The table nodded awkwardly as he rose to his feet. “I'll see if Hawke and Isabela want anything.”

“...I don't want this, I don't want her talking to me.” He could hear her the moment he stepped outside. “I just... I just want to get as far away from her as possible but I can't when she's constantly getting at me!” She'd already been outside for at least ten minutes at this point, so surely she'd be desperate for a drink. Or at least, that's how he rationalised it to himself. He wasn't listening in on purpose.  
“Well what do you think would work better; ignoring her or telling her to fuck off?” Isabela replied.  
“Maker's balls, I don't bloody know! I want to tell her to fuck off, but I don't want her to know she's got to me. How the fuck do I say that?”  
“Varric.” Isabela noticed him and gave him a nod, but Hawke was too absorbed in her phone to notice.  
“He's got enough to think about. Anyway, I'd rather punch her face in or- or ram a knife deep into her stupid, ugly little face!” Her teeth clenched together, as she lunged a hand in front of her, as if they needed a demonstration. Sometimes he forgot how violent she could be.  
“Deep breaths, Sweetie.” Isabela soothed her. “She'll get what's coming to her. But bodily harm could land you in jail and she'd know she pissed you off if you did that. Why don't you just get Varric to write a paragraph telling her to leave you the fuck alone and then block her. Problem solved!”  
“I don't know...”  
“Just go ask him, I'm sure he'd be much better than me at this. Aren't you, Varric?”  
He had to ignore the dread creeping over Hawke's face.  
“Hi guys, I-I don't mean to interrupt, I'm just getting a round, any requests?”  
Hawke groaned. “A whole bottle of vodka for me, thanks.” He was about to laugh, but the scowl scrawn over her face kept him quiet.  
“We'll have a vodka coke.” Isabela answered for her.  
“Double.” She crumpled in on herself.  
“Single.”  
“Two singles each.”  
“One each.” And she silently mouthed, “ _water_.”  
“Right, they'll be waiting inside for you.”

He was half tempted to drink the image of Hawke's horrified look from his mind, getting himself a shot while at the bar. Shit, he'd already pissed her off enough trying to look at her phone over her shoulder and now listening in to a private conversation definitely wasn't going to help. Andraste's dimpled butt cheeks, what was he thinking? But she'd never been like this, never been so quick to push him away before, he'd always been the first to know if something was upsetting her.

Well, it seemed this game of Wicked Grace was never going to get finished; Anders and Fenris were playing a game of air hockey with the copper bits left in the middle of the table from the bets and Merrill was playing with Aveline's hair, twisting it into a million different hair styles. So he collected up his cards and shoved them away before they could get lost.

“Is Hawke okay?” Aveline asked.  
“Yeah, I think so.”  
“Is she coming back in or...?”  
He shrugged.  
“Do you know what's happened?”  
He wished more than anything he could say he did, but he had to shake his head.  
A massive squeak came from across the table, turning to see Merrill try to hold back a yawn. “Oh dear! I'm going to have to head off, I'm exhausted! I'm really sorry I couldn't stay long.”  
“No worries, Daisy. Get home safe and sleep well.”  
“Thank you.” She waved to the group. “Goodbye!” And with that, she left.  
By the time the third coin crashed into her glass, Aveline looked ready to arrest the pair. “I'm going to speak to her.”  
“If you want, but I don't know if you're going to get anything out of her.”  
“It's worth a try.” And she left the table.

“So you said you were planning to get a tatto.”  
“Of a cat, yeah.”  
“Where about?”  
“I could show you but if I showed you it here, I'd probably get chucked out. My place, on the other hand...”  
“I see.” Fenris' smile widened. “I could take a look if you wanted, maybe give you a quote.”  
“Oh, yes please!” They rose from the table. Was this it? Were they finally going to do something? He needed _something_ to cheer him up.  
“See you both later.” He smiled. “Enjoy yourselves.”

He gave them a wink and Anders, the joker that he was, gave him a cheesy thumbs up. But now it was just him, no-one to play a game with to keep him sane. The drinks arrived, but Hawke, Isabela and Aveline were all outside, talking about something he knew nothing about, something she obviously didn't want him to know. But he was probably just being jealous, he wasn't her only friend, she didn't have to tell him anything, a true friend would respect boundaries and all that shit, not get jealous every time she relied on someone other than him.

It wasn't long before Aveline came storming back in, with Hawke and Isabela in tow. Hawke slid back into her seat, fringe obscuring her unmistakably red eyes, smelling heavily of cigarettes. Her drink was gone in three gulps and she wasted no time rushing up for more.

“What's going on?” He asked the others.  
“She wouldn't say.” Aveline sighed, rising from the table. “But she's going to drink some water or so help me.”  
“There's some-” He began, but she was already gone. At least he wasn't the only one she was leaving in the dark.  
“Arse face is back.” Isabela mumbled.  
“Ah, right.” He nodded as if he knew who that was or what it meant. Well, it was bad news – that much was obvious – but why? It didn't seem like it was just to do with work, she didn't care enough about work to get that upset by it, did she? Hawke silently sat back down, a drink in each hand and slunk to lay her head on her folded arms on the table. Knowing what she was like, he doubted he'd find out any time soon. A jug of water slammed onto the table. “You two need to sober up.” Aveline growled.  
Varric startled. “What- I'm not even tipsy!”  
“Not _you,_ those two.” She motioned towards Hawke and Isabela.  
“We're _fine_.” Isabela moaned.  
Aveline wasn't going to take no for an answer, teeth grit in determination as she poured them both a glass. Poor woman, she needed a lie down.  
“If you want to head off I'll make sure they're okay.” He offered.  
She paused a moment. “Are you sure?”  
“I'm perfectly sure. And don't worry about the vows, I should have them done in the next few days. You just head home and rest.”  
“Thank you, I appreciate it.” She squeezed his shoulder as she rose from the table, turning to the others. “Don't do anything stupid you two or so help me-”  
“We'll be _fine_.” Isabela waved her away and waited for her to be out the door before turning back to Hawke. “In the mood for Chainz tonight?”  
“Probably. Jusss one more drink first. Can't ssstand that place sober.” And off she went, stumbling to the bar.   
“I don't think Chainz is the best idea for her right now.” He grumbled.  
“Oh, shoosh. You know what it's like, right now she needs a good dance and a good hook up... and if _you're_ not going to do the honours...”  
“Of _course_ I'm not going to do the honours.” He scoffed with crossed arms.  
“Jeez, I forgot that was a touchy subject. Forget I even asked.”  
“Anyway, she might not even be in the mood for that. Maybe _you_ are, but she's not you, you know.”  
“I'll say. She hasn't mentioned any hook ups to you, has she? She's gone awfully quiet with me.” He shook his head. “Great, she definitely needs laid pronto.”  
“Not everything can be solved with sex.”  
“Pfffffft. Now you're just pulling my leg.  
“Sometimes it makes it worse.”  
She gave him a sideways glance. “Oh come _on_ , when has sex ever made _anything_ worse?” The answer was on his tongue but he had to bite it hard. “If you're worried about her going to Chainz, why don't you just come along.”  
“No.”  
“Then stop complaining! I'll be there so she can't do anything too stupid.”  
“I say we let her make her own decision. Maybe she _doesn't_ want to rub up against strangers tonight.”  
Isabela looked like she was having heart palpitations trying not to make an innuendo, but before she could, Hawke came stumbling straight into the table with a crash. “They wouldn't ssserve me at the bar, how ssshit is that?” She fell into her seat, knocking over an empty glass with an elbow.  
“I'm going to head back to mine, maybe watch some Dragon Frontier...” Varric said, “Care to join me?”  
“Mmm...” Something tugged at the edge of her mouth and it certainly wasn't conviction. “Naah.”  
Isabela gave him a shit-eating grin and downed her drink and all he could do was sigh. “Ready to go?”  
Hawke nodded and heaved herself up from the table. “Seeeyaalater.”

Isabela's arm wound around Hawke's waist and he knew it was wrong of him, it was just to keep her from falling over, but a spike of jealousy shot him square through the chest. He couldn't even give her a comforting pat on the shoulder without her practically running a mile. Andraste's ass, it just wasn't fair. But he should have known by now that life wasn't fair, so he stood up from the table, downed his drink, shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled on home.

Seems he couldn't tempt her away from Chainz like he had so many times before. And he should have been grateful for all those times she'd picked him over a night there, but... he didn't even know. Something had changed, hadn't it? What was the first thing he asked before they'd even laid a hand on each other's body?  
“This isn't going to change anything, is it?”  
And yet, it had. Well, shit.

He was still drowning in his thoughts by the time he pushed through his front door. Why wasn't she telling him what was wrong? More than that, why was she so against him _knowing_ what was going on? Was it to do with him? Was _he_ the problem? But she'd refused to tell Aveline too. Maybe just telling Isabela was enough for her. Maybe she didn't need him as a friend any more. He'd said it himself, if all she needed was a good time-

No, he was just being jealous that she was confiding in someone else, someone that wasn't him. Good on her, there was nothing wrong with that, no reason for him to be so fucking jealous of Isabela, but knowing how irrational he was feeling didn't help in the slightest. He'd rather not think about the possibility of her throwing herself onto strangers to get hurt when she could come to him... but she could do what she wanted.

He threw his jacket to the floor with a crash, and sat at his desk. He felt the need to flex his creative fingers and writing vows didn't seem too unappealing right now. He'd never actually got round to writing his own vows before... And maybe that was why he was so reluctant to work on them proper, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to do it. He certainly wasn't going to let Aveline down, that was for sure. So he hunted out the notebook he'd been using and skimmed over what he had so far, starting with Aveline's own words:  
 _'I love you so much. You're always there for me. I never want to be with anyone else.'_

Oh fuck, that was hitting a little close to home right now, for more than one reason. If this was going to be done, it would have to be done properly, but he'd need some lubrication to dig out these long ignored and forgotten feelings. He brought down his best bottle of brandy and a glass, sipping as he let his pen wander, scribbling illegibly over the paper, unable to stop the flood of words pouring out. When inspiration finally dried up, he read over the mess, scribbling out, moving around and adding in words until he finally had something he would be proud to hand over to her.

Before he knew it, from a tidal wave of words, he had a perfectly formed set of vows. Only thing was, he didn't want to hand over a scribbled mess, especially if she was anywhere near as sentimental as he was and would want to keep those words for a long, long time. Maybe it would even be nice for her to have her vows typed up nicely. Maybe it was time to get out an old friend.

Where had he put her- _it_ again? He raked his clouded mind, pulling the contents out of every possible box, every cupboard or shelf, leaving a wake of mess behind him. Eventually, he caught a glimpse of a familiar wooden box and hauled it out as the books on top of it fell with a clatter. He shoved his work to the side to clear a space on his desk, scraps of paper and pens falling to the floor, his fingers hovering over the clasp. Did he even want to open this again, to bring back memories he'd tried to hard to forget? Once upon a time he'd been so eager to open the box, to find out what she'd got him for their first anniversary, not even daring to hope it was what he thought it was. But now he already knew what was inside and that was the problem. This was all for Aveline's sake, though. She deserved to have a perfect wedding day, even if he couldn't. So he took a deep breath, a gulp of brandy and opened the latches with an oh so familiar click, the lid creaking open.

And there it was.

Caked in dust, devoid of the sheen from the days he'd care for it almost obsessively, but still in one piece; Bianca the typewriter. But it wasn't being called that any longer. He'd almost expected Hawke to have smashed it or thrown it out a window like she said she would. Maker, she'd probably be so disappointed if she knew he still had this, but he'd kept it for practical reasons. This was just him writing his friend's vows, nothing more. With the same attentiveness he used to show it, he dusted it off, taking great care between the raised keys, checking each one as he went. It seemed the 'M' key was a little wonky, but it's not like she'd ever fix that now... ah, but dwelling on things certainly wasn't getting words on paper so he gave it a test run. Surprisingly, it was no worse for wear other than being a little low on ink. Well, it had been a long time since he'd even touched it. Probably not since writing all those letters...

The burn of the brandy helped clear his mind and with frustratingly shaky hands, he changed the ink ribbon, sliding in a fresh piece of paper and stretched out his fingers, skimming over the smooth, rounded keys with a nostalgia he'd long since expected never to feel again. He didn't even know if it was a good thing.

He typed out the love-filled words, savouring the click of each letter, taking a new paragraph at the start of each sentence just to hear the familiar click.

_'We've loved each other at our best, we've loved each other at our worst and I promise that will never change.  
I promise never to hurt you, that the only tears I'll ever make you cry would be from happiness.  
I want to love you in every way possible and I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life doing just that.  
Wherever our journey takes us in life, I want to take every step beside you.'_

He swallowed down the lump in his throat with yet more brandy, struggling to make out the words he'd just typed from the tears trying to break free. The first draft was quickly crumpled up, he didn't want to see the words he'd had to scratch out to stop his heart bleeding onto the page, the very words he wished he could say to Hawke. Andraste's ass, he wanted nothing more than to be honest with her, to pick up the phone and verbally scribble out his feelings like he used to, talking for hours about whatever shit came to their minds, before they ever slept together, before their friendship had hit the rocks, water pouring in from the holes in the hull and sooner or later it was going to sink. Unless he did something about it.

He was drunk though, undeniably so, and he knew that the haze of alcohol meant bad decisions, but his hand still crept towards his phone. He shouldn't, she was probably having plenty fun without him, dancing and drinking the night away with people that could make her smile like he couldn't. Yet still he found his phone in hand, thumb hovering over her name, trying to find the will not to phone her, not to risk ruining things again... But he'd bitten his tongue too many times and for far too long.

So he clicked on her name and held the phone to his ear, waiting for the familiar voice.

  
  


  
  


\- - - - - - - -

  
  


  
  


When he opened his eyes on that bright Saturday morning with a smile on his face, he knew it was going to be a good day. Sunlight poured into his room as he rubbed his eyes, for once not swollen from tears, no headache from alcohol or lack of sleep, no writing to do and no plans. He sat in the light and sipped his morning coffee by the window, happy to just _be_. For once he didn't watch the cars going by, endlessly hoping for a certain car to park outside. He just sat and watched the people beneath him, going about their days.

It had now been seven months, one week and three days since Bianca had left and while some days were better than others, his bad days no longer entailed being a sobbing mess. Some days he just felt the urge to be around other people and today was one of those days. So he took himself to the Hanged Man, no laptop or notebook, no Hawke or card deck, just happy to sit, drink and people watch. Anyway, it was great not having someone complain whenever he spent as much time or money here as he wanted. He was free as a bird and it suited him just fine. All in all, he was doing really well, he barely missed her at all.

It was quiet at the Hanged Man today, only the regulars and one or two new faces, but then again it was a while until payday for most people. And that was when he realised _he_ was being watched for once. Being one of the few bars not owned by the Dwarven Merchant's Guild, it was rare to find any other dwarves in here, let alone a cute dwarven woman, and yet one watched him intently from over by the bar. And then a thought occurred to him, maybe this was an excuse to brush up on his flirting skills. Well, flirting for real, not just with Hawke.

“Buy that woman a drink on me.” He told Norah as she came past. “Whatever she's drinking.”  
“Sure.”

He watched as a drink slid over to her and Norah spoke, pointing in his direction. She smiled and hopped off the precariously high bar stools (yet another reason he preferred to stay nearer the back of the bar) and made her way over. He swallowed the butterflies with a sip of ale; yes, much better.

“So you were the one to buy me a drink.” Her voice was lower than he'd expected and there was an accent in there he couldn't quite place.  
“That I am.” He would have pulled out a chair if he wasn't at a booth, so instead he held his hand out to the seat opposite and she took the hint.  
“Thank you.”  
“No need to thank me, I was only too happy to buy a drink for a woman as beautiful as yourself.” He tried not to cringe at the line, Maker he was out of practice at this. “Cheers.”  
She smiled and raised her glass to his. “Cheers.”  
“I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name.”  
“Sheska.”  
“Varric.”  
“I swear I've heard that name before.”  
“Funny that.” Time to change the subject, he didn't have the energy for an adoring fan right now. “You know, I don't think I've seen you here before.”  
“A regular, are you? This is my first time here actually.”  
“Ah, so are you from Kirkwall originally?”  
“No, I live in Val Royeux. Just here on business for the next few days.”  
“You're not from there originally, are you?”  
“What gave it away, the lack of Orlesian accent?”  
“Most Orlesians wouldn't dream of stepping foot in this place. How are you finding Kirkwall then?”  
“I just told you I live in Val Royeux, do you _really_ want me to answer that?” Her dark eyes glittered with mirth.  
“Maybe not.” He laughed. “What brings you to the Hanged Man then?”  
“I'd heard plenty about it.”  
“Good things?”  
“Not really, I just wanted to find out if it was as bad as everyone said.”  
“And is it?”  
“I must admit you're a pleasant surprise. I wasn't expecting to meet anyone as charming here.”  
“What can I say? I'm a diamond in the rough.” Her laugh was music to his ears, hiding a flush behind her wine glass. Her eyes met his over the rim and for a long moment as a comfortable silence fell between them as she took a drink.  
“Actually, where about are the toilets?”  
“Just past the bar over there.” He pointed.  
“I'll be a minute.” And she dashed off, leaving him there, alone once more.

So he twiddled his thumbs, doing his best not to notice how much his hands were shaking. Another drink would hopefully help with that, so he flagged down Norah. To be honest, it wouldn't surprise him if he didn't see her again, what with his luck. But no, positive thinking was what he needed. No-one in their right mind would leave him without an explanation... apparently, but it was hard to be as positive about it as Hawke. His phone buzzed, speak of the devil. She'd sent him a gif of a mabari lying on it's back, it's tongue hanging out as it contentedly snoozed away, and the message _It's a nice day today, get out the house if you can._ But he'd have to reply later, Sheska was back with newly ruffled hair and reapplied lipstick. His heart hammered against his chest at the thought, the possibility of what could come next. It had been so long since he'd been with anyone, not since... no, it wasn't worth thinking about. Not right now.

“Ugh, I take back anything I said about liking this place.” She groaned as she sat back down. “Ancestor's ass, the toilets here are disgusting. What kind of place doesn't have a toilet seat?”  
“You didn't fall in, did you?”  
“No.” She gave him a curious look, resting her head on her hand, elbow on the table. “Why?”  
“I came here with someone before, she didn't realise there wasn't a seat on it, fell right into the toilet. Took the toilet roll dispenser down with her too.”  
“Oh dear, I take it she was drunk.”   
“Completely sober, I shit you not. She refused to come here again.” She'd been furious, fire in her grey eyes, but he pushed it to the back of his mind, it didn't matter now. “But anyway, the people here don't come for the quality of the toilets, they come here for the cheap drinks and occasionally the karaoke.”  
“You sing?”  
“Not me, no. I like to leave that to the more experienced people. Or at least those more willing to inflict their bad singing to the world.”  
“Hah, well I can't say I've ever done karaoke at a bar.”  
“I take it you don't go to places like this where you're from.”  
“Not usually,” she tilted her head and the light caught her eyes, turning dazzlingly bright. “But I'm quite a spontaneous person. Sometimes it's nice to come to a place like this.” She took a look around the bar. “It's nice to be somewhere you don't need to dress up.”  
“Exactly. No-one here cares what you're wearing.” He could remember when Bianca was like that, before she felt the need to look perfect all of the time. It seemed pretty exhausting to him, all that time doing hair and makeup. Thank goodness Hawke didn't give a shit, he didn't even think he'd seen her fuss over how she looked. More than once she'd turned up at his looking like she'd walked backwards out of a hedge.

“Can I just ask; why do you shave your beard off?”  
“I figured I had enough hair elsewhere.”  
“I can see that.” Her eyes wondered to the expanse of his chest, as she twirled her hair around her finger absent mindedly.  
“My eyes are up here, you know.”  
“Huh? Oh sorry, there must be something wrong with my eyes. I just can't take them off you.”  
He snorted and mentally noted that line down for later, Hawke would like that one. “Well, if you can take your eyes off me for long enough,” he reached a hand towards hers over the table, “my place is just around the corner.”  
Her smile turned wider, finishing her drink and licking her lips without leaving his gaze. “Lead the way.”

He handed Norah what he owed her and a generous tip as they left and took a deep breath of the cool afternoon air against the tightness of his chest. All he had to do was keep cool. Stay cool. Just... be cool.

He did his best not to let her see his hands shaking as he opened the door for her. “Ladies first.” He took her jacket and invited her to sit on the couch. “Anything to drink?” He certainly needed something.  
“Any wine?”  
“Pretty sure I do.” And sure enough he still had that bottle of red kicking about that he couldn't quite bring to throw out or drink. Well, if there was ever an excuse to open it. He poured himself one too and added a little trickle of vodka, the closest thing to hand.  
She accepted the drink with a lascivious wink. “Mmm, this is good.”  
“I've got good taste.” He gave her a wink back. “Evidently.”

Before he knew it, she was leaning in towards him, her eyes glued to his lips. This was it; he could either chicken out and turn away or lean in and kiss her, the first person since-

He chose to lean in, their lips pressing together. She tasted of the wine, soft against him as he reached a hand to her hair to feel her smooth waves- coarse, straight hair, he meant. This kiss deepened, her tongue swirled into his and his mind was wiped clean. Maker's ass he hadn't felt like this in a long time. Even her perfume smelled familiar, like spiced roses, as his hands wandered to her neck, tracing gently at the soft skin. He half expected to feel the cool of Bianca's necklace around her neck, but she wasn't Bianca. He knew that of course, but some part of him refused to let him believe it. But it was fine, this was only for fun. He doubted it meant anything to her and it certainly didn't have to mean anything to him.

But what if Bianca came back? Would it matter then? What if she found out he'd been with someone else? How could he convince her to stay if he hadn't stayed true, hadn't waited for her to come back, hadn't believed she would? He pulled away, watching breathless confusion spread over her face.

“I... I'm sorry, I don't think I can do this.”  
“You can't?”  
“Yeah, I just... I'm not- I don't think I'm ready after my ex...”  
She rolled her eyes and grumbled through gritted teeth. “Not again.”  
“Look, I'm really sorry-”  
“No, it's fine.” She rose from the sofa and yanked her jacket off, mumbling to herself and downing the rest of her wine. “I should have listened to my horoscope and stayed home.”  
“Shall I see you to the door?”  
“No need.” The door slammed behind her, with only the silent emptiness of the flat ringing in his ears.

He wasn't over her.

The truth hit like a shit tonne of bricks as his head fell to his hands. Why couldn't he let go of that stupid, stupid hope that she might come back? He thought he'd finally learnt to be happy without her, he thought he was doing so well, he thought he had made it out of that tunnel, but the hope, the possibility of her coming back still plagued him.

Without even realising what he was doing, he dragged out his old friend; the old typewriter, Bianca. She still had an old letter from another lonely night in her, so he pulled the paper free and slid another in, settling down at his desk, downing the disgusting vodka infused wine.

_Dear Bianca,_

It was stupid, but he felt that maybe, just maybe, the words would find her, wherever she was, whatever she was doing right now. He thought about her daily, always wondering what kind of a life she lived nowadays... Shit, how did he ever think he was over her?

_I thought I was over you, I thought I was doing better, but I only got better at lying to myself. I kissed someone else and I feel so guilty, it's eating me inside. I thought of you the whole time and now I miss you more than ever. I miss being able to wrap my arms around you, talking to you, lying beside you and waking up to see you. I miss you so fucking much._

He could no longer see from the tears in his eyes, so he crumpled in on himself, holding his head in his hands.

_Do you even miss me?_

Why was he even bothering? Just because she managed to get the typewriter working didn't mean she wasn't going to read these words. And the reason why? She didn't even care enough to give an address, a phone number, a social media account... anything. She was gone and he obviously meant nothing to her.

_Do you even give a shit? Do you even care about how badly you've hurt me?_

Did anyone actually give a shit about him? People were always leaving him for one reason or another, Bianca, Bartrand, Maker's balls, even his own parents. Well, there was _one_ person he could rely on. He didn't want to bother her as much as he did, but he needed someone to save him from his own mind tonight. So he scrolled past the mabari gif and clicked on her face.

“Hey! What's up?” Her voice was a breath of fresh air against the war raging in his mind.  
“Are you free?” He croaked.  
“Yeah, of course. Are you at your place?”  
“Yeah.”  
“I'll be there in a minute. I'm near the shop now, need anything?”  
“No, no need to bother yourself.”  
The sound of thundering footsteps came from the phone. “Want me to stay on the phone... until I get there?”  
Maker, she was so thoughtful. “Yeah, if you could. Are you running?”  
“I said I'd... be there in a minute.” Traffic whizzed against his ear. “What... what have you... been up to then?”  
“I was at the Hanged Man earlier.”  
“Do any... good writing?”  
“I uh, that's kinda the problem.”  
“Oh?”  
“I guess you'll see when you get here.”  
“Hah well... funny you... should... say that.”

His buzzer sounded and he let her in without even waiting for her voice. She thundered up the stairs and in the door in a second flat and threw her arms around him, pretty much falling onto him as she struggled to breathe.

“I've missed you, you chunk!” She drew back and gave him a weird look. “What's that around your mouth?”  
“What?”  
“That red stuff.”  
Sheska's lipstick, _shit_. He rushed to rub it off. “Ketchup.”  
“Oh, right.” She threw off her shoes and jacket. “How are you doing?”  
“...Not so well.”  
“Because of your writing?” He shrugged and lead her to the living room to let her see for herself. She stopped dead as soon as she set eyes on the typewriter. “I thought you said you were getting rid of this.”  
“No I... I couldn't.”  
She gave him the saddest look. “Oh, Varric.”  
“I don't know what to do with it, I can't even bear to look at it right now.”  
“Shall I save you the torture and chuck it out the window?”  
“No, please don't.”  
“Sorry... sorry, just trying to lighten the mood.” Her eyes skimmed over the contents of the letter, scratching the back of her neck. “I take it you're going to keep it.”  
“For now, yeah.”  
“Then I'll put it away somewhere you won't see it by accident.” She pulled the paper free of the typewriter and held it up. “Do you want to keep this?”  
“Leave it on the desk.”  
For a moment, she looked as if she was going to scrunch it up and lob it in the bin, but instead she let it fall to the desk and hauled the typewriter back into its box. “I know the perfect place for it. You go put the kettle on or something, I don't want you knowing where it is. When you're ready to get rid of it you can dig it out, but don't go hunting for it before that if you can help it.”  
She sounded so sure he'd ever want rid of it for more than a fleeting second, but he wasn't so convinced. “I'll try.”

He wondered through to the kitchen and filled up the kettle, flicking it on and popping a teabag into the largest mug he had. His stomach rumbled angrily at him, something he'd neglected to think about. “Have you eaten?” He popped his head out the kitchen door. “Hawke?”  
“Uh... yeah?” She appeared back through and hopped up onto the counter.  
“ _Really_?”  
Her eyes shifted as her stomach grumbled to her too. “Did I ask for your opinion?” She grumbled back to it.  
“What would you say if I made mac n cheese?”  
“Fuck yes!”  
“And what would you say if I said I had chilli cheese especially for it?”  
“You're fucking amazing, you know that?”  
His face turned hot - from the heat of the hob of course - as he began throwing the food together.  
“Do you have anything to drink?”  
“Shit, I knew there was something else I was supposed to be doing.” He poured the boiled water into the mug, added a dash of milk and slid it over.  
“Oh thanks.” Her mouth twitched. “I've been needing a cuppa.”   
“Hard day?”  
“Ugh, the usual really.”  
“Hows the new job going?”  
“Eh, not too bad. There's one guy I work with I just can't stand. Smarmy little... Ugh. It's kinda weird working in an office instead of lugging around boxes all day.”  
“Weird in a good way?”  
“I dunno. The pay is good though, so I guess I can't complain. I guess being a mabari whisperer will have to wait.”  
“Oh, speaking of mabari, I saw a documentary about them advertised and recorded it for you. Shall we watch it during dinner?”  
“You _actually_ need to ask that?”  
“Fair point.”

She swung her legs as she watched him cook, kicking a rhythm against the counter doors. Just like when he had her over for dinner with...

“Varric... are you okay?”  
“Just thinking.”  
“Careful you don't strain yourself there.”  
He chuckled against the lump in his throat, trying his best not to see a bright halo around the black of her hair. “Thanks for everything, Hawke.”  
“Shut up.” She prodded him with her toe. “I'm just being a decent friend.”  
He rolled his eyes. “You came running over the moment I asked-”  
“I was in the area.”  
“You kept me going when I couldn't face the world.”  
“I wasn't exactly going to encourage you to give up, was I?”  
“Andraste's tit's, give yourself some credit. I don't even know what I'd do without you.”   
“Oh, Varric. I'm nowhere near drunk enough for all this mushy crap.” Her mug rose to her mouth with a shaky hand. “Speaking of,” she threw the rest of the tea back and hopped off the counter. “I'm going to get myself another drink.”  
“I'll get it.”  
“You'll do nothing of the sort. You're already making me dinner.”  
“It's the least I could do.”  
“Oh shut up. Mind if I steal a little something from your drinks shelf?”  
“Help yourself.” He watched her pour a rather large measure. “I take it you have tomorrow off.”  
“Oh yeah. It's great to know I'll never have to work another weekend.”  
“Oh, of course. Can I maybe tempt you to stay over then?” He certainly didn't want to be alone, not tonight.  
“Tempt me? You're already the most tempting man I know.” And she jabbed him in the rib for good measure and he had to force himself not to squeal. Maferath's ass, he hated being ticklish. “In fact, pour me some.”  
“Uh, no can do.” She held up the empty bottle.  
He could have sworn he had plenty of vodka. “Whiskey then?”  
“That I can do. I'll bring you another bottle of vodka next time I'm here.”  
“No need.” He was pretty glad to see the last of it, he'd downed far too many shots of it without even liking the stuff. He passed over his drink and she clinked their glasses together.  
“Cheers.” She smiled as she took a sip.  
“Cheers.”

  
  


  
  


When he opened his eyes on that overcast Sunday morning with his best friend draped over him, he knew it was going to be a good day. He blinked against the light trickling into the window, fighting against the haze of sleep threatening to pull him under again. He lay on his back, watching Hawke snore away contentedly.

He must have fallen asleep before her, more empty bottles sat by the couch than he thought they'd had. He'd needed that last night, talking about shit, minus the details of the failed one night stand. Hawke had spent most of it complaining about Carver and how he never helps around the house. Living with your siblings must be hard. She let out a contented snore and shuffled against him, so he took the opportunity to breathe in the smell of her hair, spiced roses and... smoke? Strange, she didn't smoke.

Maker only knows where he'd be without her. Running to see him when he needed her, no questions asked, letting him yammer away for hours, having him over for lasagna, getting him out of the house even when he didn't feel like he could. Just having someone there, believing in him that he could get through this, that meant the world to him and if he could do something to thank her, to show her how much she means to him, then all the better.

He shuffled her off him and somehow made it to his feet, crashing into some of the empty bottles on his way, but she still didn't even stir. Maker, she must have been exhausted. So he threw a blanket over her, had a quick shave, tied his hair back, and threw on something that hadn't been worn for 24 hours straight. In case she woke he sent her a message, but it seemed that wasn't happening any time soon.

_Heading out. Won't be long._

Outside the streets were calmed by the Sunday lull, most people were recovering from Saturday night, or just the work week in general. He really did need to get out more often - other than the Hanged Man, of course. It would be a lot easier if he had more friends, maybe more people to play Wicked Grace with.

But anyway, after a quick trip to the butcher, he made his way back, nosying in the shop windows as he went. Hmm, maybe a cake would be nice. Hawke didn't have much of a sweet tooth though. It was then that he heard a soft voice, like the chirp of a bird coming from inside the flower shop. That was an idea.

He followed the voice inside to see an elven shop assistant with tattoos on her face, her short black hair tied back in a floral bandanna decorated with daisies. She sang as she sprayed the flowers, with an accent he couldn't quite place. “... _hello roses, you're looking sharp today. And violets, you look a little thirsty, here you go_ \- AH!” She startled, spraying him by accident. “By the creators, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there!”  
“No harm done.” He smiled.  
“Can I help you or are you just browsing?”  
“What would you recommend to give someone to say thank you.”  
“Is this for a special someone?”  
“My best friend, but she is pretty special.”  
“Oh how lovely! Do you know which floriography they'd most appreciate?”  
“Uhh... There's more than one?”  
“Oh, there's so many! Most people go with the current Orlesian floriography, but I have to admit I find it a little uninspired. More about looks that meaning... But if that's what you want then I can do that for you.”  
“She's from Fereldan, I don't think Orlesian would be the best choice.”  
“Ah yes, of course. You're in luck because Fereldan is my speciality!”  
“She loves dragons... if that helps.”  
“Oh! I know lots about flowers from the Dragon Age! I wrote an essay on it once!” She practically danced around the shop, peering through the different flowers. “Where are you, where are you... aha! Andraste's grace! These are for purity of feeling.” She took a bundle and began organising them “A fun fact, this flower was often dried and stored amongst clothing to make them smell nice!”  
“Really? Well that is a fun fact.”  
“Isn't it!” She picked out a few roses, studying them closely. “Dark pink roses are for gratitude and when you put the two together,” she bundled the flowers together carefully, “you get pure and deep feelings of gratitude. They also look very pretty together in my opinion. Does that sound like what you're wanting?”  
“That's perfect!”  
“I'm so glad!” She set about arranging the flowers, wrapping them with great care in brown paper. “What's her favourite colour?”  
“Red.”  
She tied a red ribbon around the bouquet and handed them to him. “Pop them in water as soon as you can and add a little sugar and vinegar to help them last a little longer.”  
“Thank you so much.”  
“It's my pleasure! If you're ever in the area, please let me know how she liked them.”  
“I will.”

He walked back with the biggest grin he'd had in a long time, just imagining her face. She was going to love these flowers, he just knew it. And a cooked breakfast? She deserved all the happiness in the world, more than he could give her. She was still face down on the couch when he got back, only her mop of hair and a dragon sock poking out from underneath the blanket, so he got to work putting the flowers in water and getting breakfast started. But it wasn't long until she rose, looking half dead.

“Morning.” She grumbled.  
“It's not morning any more.”   
“Shit.” She tried to hop up on the counter but it took her three tries.  
“How much did you drink last night?”  
“Ugh... I don't even know. Not much more than you.”  
“Mhm.” He raised an eyebrow but she waved him off.  
“So what's cookin', good lookin'?”  
“Sausages, egg, bacon, blood sausage-”  
“Blood sausage!? How the fuck did you get that outside of Fereldan?”  
He was well aware of the shit-eating grin on his face and didn't even try to hide it. “And I got you a little something as well.” He passed her over the flowers. “The woman at the flower shop put them together specially. They're for gratitude. So yeah thank you for everything, Hawke.”  
“Flowers now?” She took them from him, sniffing and swiping at her eyes. “...Damn allergies.”  
“Of course, blame the non-existant allergies, I see how it is.” He chuckled, flipping over the blood sausage with a satisfying sizzle. “Do you recognise the flowers?”  
“Uh, is that Andraste's grace?”  
“Yeah. Did you know they were used to make clothes smell nice?”  
“Ugh, this is too much, Varric. You've already thanked me enough.”  
“I don't think I have.”  
“You cook me dinner, give me alcohol, and now breakfast and flowers? If I didn't know any better then I would have thought you were trying to woo me.” She laughed awkwardly and jabbed him in the ribs with a wooden spoon.  
“If I was trying to woo you, you'd know.” The look she gave him said she wasn't entirely convinced, but he just laughed. Trying to find someone to replace Bianca was obviously much more effort and heartbreak than they were worth. He had Hawke and for now, that was enough for him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter my goddddddd I swear it sucked the life from my very soul. Poor Varric, he's been through the wars in this one. But anyway it's finally done, even if it's way over a month later than planned.  
> Also, it's been over a year since I started this series, wtf????  
> I'm actually still in disbelief about how soon this story is drawing to a close. 3 MORE CHAPTERS!?!?! (although I think I'll add another so we can get one more sweet, sweet Varric POV) I kinda want to do a linear version of the whole series (from Varric and Hawke meeting, all the way to Hawke fucking everything up) and I have an alternate timeline fizzling around in the back of my head (where Hawke doesn't fuck everything up and yet still does) but once I'm done with this story I think I'll need a long holiday from this series (if I can manage it).  
> I'm not quite sure when the next chapter will be out, as the plot revolves around a certain celebratory event I'll be attending next month (it's been hinted in this chapter so I wonder who of you can guess), so I kinda want to wait until I've been to it to finish the chapter.
> 
> Hope you all had a rad festive season <3


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